


The Halls of Erebor

by DarknessAmongLight



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarves, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Love, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28997199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAmongLight/pseuds/DarknessAmongLight
Summary: A prequel to Prince & King.Frin, a half elven, half dwarven woman returns home to Erebor. There are things she hopes will remain the same. Now that she has returned, she is required to come to the King's court. Will her friendship with the kingdom's young prince cause her favor with the king? Or, will the king only see her pointed ears?******New Chapters Weekly!
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. Introductions

“My dearest daughter,” Frin’s mother hovered over her, delicately placing each of her braids into an intricate design. “You know this is an important day.”

Yes, mother.” Frin nodded in an effort to please the elf above her. She knew being presented to the dwarven court and Thror, King Under the Mountain, was important for her parents. In her option it was a formality, a tradition. She grew up with many members of court. She and Thorin, the prince under his father Thrain, had the same tutors. There was a small part of her which was nervous. She had been gone for a year and quietly wondered if anyone would remember her.

For the past year, her family had been with the elves of Mirkwood. Her father, Farin, was an ambassador for the King. He was a small round dwarf, with a long grey beard which now hung over his chest. Once vibrant red hair had become washed out and more grey than red. Frin had been told by some that her father was harsh and brutal. If he wanted something he would inevitably get it. There had been a rumor saying he kidnapped a child once, to force one of Thror’s rivals to support the King. To Frin, however, he was always kind and doting. She had never wanted for anything. The finest silks, jewels and lessons filled her childhood. He ensured she was able to fight as any dwarf should in addition to being well educated.

Her mother Lorelin was the emissary from King Thranduil. A refined elf living among the gruffness of dwarves was strange for most people. Her brown hair fell elegantly down her back, each hair in place. Since they returned she had taken to wearing a blend of the dwarven styles. Frin knew it was to be more accepted while not losing herself in the process. The relationship between a dwarf and an elf had been scandelized but over the years the people of both kingdoms grew to accept them. 

As her mother tucked the last braid behind her ear, Frin spoke to a question which had been lingering in her thoughts since their return to the mountain. “Have you seen Thorin since we’ve been back?” She tried to phrase the question in a way that seemed idly curious but judging by the look her mother gave her, a slightly raised eyebrow, it hadn’t worked.

Before she’d left, Thorin and herself had been inseparable, causing mischief everywhere they went. They were children. Frin used to get teased by her father’s friends. They’d say she had an infatuation with the young prince of Erebor. If Frin was honest with herself, she had been infatuated with him. But, now she was of age, an adult, who had to deal with the realities of the life she found herself in. 

“Yes. I have seen him. He has matured in our absence.” Her mother spoke in her usual level tone.

Frin felt a small ball of nerves twist. She was nervous, nervous to see him, nervous to see the King.

The door to the room opened revealing her father, clothed in the robes he usually wore to court, black with a silver belt of dwarven knots. “Ready?” He asked looking at Frin, who gave a small nod. 

Standing she was thankful for being allowed to wear what she wished. Over her shoulders, draped a robe of deep blue lined with the fur of a black bear. Underneath she wore a simple elven tunic but instead of the light, airy colors of the elves she wore black. On top of the tunic was a leather armour, covered in dwarven knots and runes. Her trousers were a simple leather dyed black, tucked into dwarven boots, made for her smaller figure. 

In the corner of the room she could see the hilt of her short sword gleaming at her in the torch light. 

“How do you wish to be known?” Her father asked, having seen the glance. 

“As I am.” Frin replied.

With a smile of pride he nodded, “then don’t forget the sword.” 

With a mirrored smile, Frin quickly grabbed the elven blade and strapped it around her waist all while following her parents as they led her from her family home and through the halls of Erebor. She could feel the eyes upon them as they moved through the crowded streets deeper into the mountain to the throne room. 

In the antichamber, various dwarf lords gathered, greeting her father and mother. The anticipation of approaching the royal family, as an adult, officially, gripped her tightly. As her parents introduced her to person after person, Frin found herself lost in a sea of faces, polite smiles and greetings. She knew she wouldn’t remember any of their names.

From the direction of the throne room, two dwarven men approached her father and spoke quietly. When they left, he turned towards her and nodded, then proceeded to lead the family towards the throne room. 

Frin had never been in this part of the mountain. The high walkways overlooked the massive wealth of Erebor of which she had never seen. As they walked down the long path, she couldn’t help but peer over the edge at wealth lingering below. She knew Erebor was the richest of the dwarf kingdoms but to see it for herself was entirely different. 

The sound of her father clearing his throat brought her thoughts back to the moment at hand. They were approaching the throne. The Arkenstone shone above the King like a shining star. 

Just before the steps leading to the King they stopped. Frin remained behind her mother and father, then as a unit they bowed to the King.

“Farin we welcome your family back to the Mountain. I understand your daughter has come of age in your absence.” King Thror’s voice carried down the grand halls. 

“My Lord, I present my daughter.” Her father turned, allowing her to walk forward. “Frin daughter of the mountain and forest.”

Looking up, she was greeted by the impressive visage of the king. His grand beard was covered in jewels, crown on his head and the Arkenstone shining above. He looked down at her, while she forced herself to stand up proudly.

“Frin, approach me so I may see you better.” He beckoned her closer. As she approached, she realized the King kept beckoning her closer until she was standing at his arm. “Tell me, young warrior,” he spoke in a hushed tone, only to her. “Are you an elf or a dwarf?” 

“I am both, your majesty.” She replied confused by the question.

“And which do you see yourself as, an elf or a dwarf.” It was then, she understood his meaning. He wanted to know her allegiance. By blood she was pulled in two directions, but he wanted her loyalty. 

“I would proudly call myself a dwarf of Erebor, for I am a dwarf in both attitude and stature.” She replied truthfully.

“As it should be.” The King again spoke to the entire room. “Go back to your father.” He said dismissing her. As she made her way down the emerald steps she saw Thrain standing with a small smile to the right of the King. To his right stood a dwarf she partially recognized. He wore a tunic of royal blue covered by a great fur rob, Thorin. She would know him anywhere. The beard was new with a braid coming down it’s centre. He looked far more grown than in her memory.

When she returned to her place by her father and mother the King continued to speak. “The halls of Erebor gladly welcome you Frin, daughter of Farin, daughter of the Mountain.” Her family bowed once more and left the great throne room.

Instead of leaving the same way they had entered, they moved along a path which led to the right of the King, past the line of Durin. The path led into a corridor, which continued past a small mural on a corner.

Carved into the green wall was the throne, empty with the Arkenstone shining above it. Before the throne a cloaked figure knelt palms towards the King’s Jewel. Her father led them past the carving back into the antichamber they had been in previously.

“I am proud of you.” Her father turned to face her. “You have now earned the freedom to come and go from the mountain as you please. You may approach the royal family under invitation and friendship.”

“Thank you.” Frin replied, lowering her head to her father. “If it pleases you I wish to take my leave and reorientate myself with my home.” 

He nodded offering her an understanding smile. She needed some space, the feeling of being watched was overwhelming. She needed to be alone for a time to gather her thoughts away from prying eyes.

Carefully, she made her way out of the room and into the open halls of Erebor. She was careful to not be rude or too urgent in her exit, such a thing would lead to gossip and rumour. Once on the streets, she ducked into a relatively deserted corridor and pulled the braids out of her hair. Allowing the dark threads to cover the points of her ears, she didn’t need curious looks as she walked. She quickly braided the front pieces of her hair and fastened them behind her head, as she usually did. Now, feeling more like herself and less like she needed to empress, she wandered out into the crowded street. Slowly, she ventured through the streets taking in the sights and sounds. She was heading back towards her family’s home, wishing to shed her outer rob before venturing deep into the mountain to find a solitary moment. 

The day was growing long by the time she left her home in only her tunic and armour. The miners and smiths were all returning from their day’s work. Soon she knew the mines would be empty and only a few dwarves would be watching the forges. 

Gradually, with a hand on the hilt of her sword she weaved herself through the waves of miners until she found herself utterly alone, standing at the end of one of the mining pits. For a moment she was tempted to go down on one of the miner’s chairs but she decided against it, resolved to simply sit and stare at the familiar stone walls. Gingerly she sat down, dangling her feet over the edge. Leaning back, she pressed her back against the cold stone. Closing her eyes, she listened. In the distance, echoing through the labyrinth of empty corridors she could hear the faint ting of the smith’s hammer. 

She laid there, eyes closed, listening to the steady sound of metal on metal, allowing the cold of the mountain to seep through her clothes. A new sound interrupted her peaceful moment. Heavy foot falls approached her. Whoever it was would surely tell her to leave. When the footfalls stopped only a short distance from her she opened her eyes. Above her looking down through the veil of dark hair was Thorin.

She didn’t know what to do. She just stared at him while his blue eyes pierced her. Eventually, he moved, wordlessly, lowering himself beside her. In response she pulled herself into a sitting position, legs still hanging over the edge. 

There were so many things she wished to tell him, how she missed him, how good he looked but nothing came out. It felt like a raven had flown into her stomach and continued flapping. She could not find a logical reason why Thorin made her nervous. He never did before. 

“Welcome home,” the deep tenor of his voice rumbled through her. 

“Thanks.” She said looking at her hands. 

“You didn’t write.” He stated.

“Neither did you.” She said plainly. She saw him nod. “You became a prince.” Her statement was more for herself than him. 

“You became a woman.” Without turning she could see he was not looking at her. “I knew I would find you here.” 

“Do you think they will allow us to be friends?” She asked him.

“I don’t really care what they will allow.” He stated caused her to turn towards him. She was greeted by a confident smirk. “I missed you.”

“And I you.” She smiled back at him. A part of her quietly screamed for joy. Erebor had always been her home and Thorin her friend. At least those things would remain the same. “So, what did I miss?” She asked, leaning back onto her elbows, nerves finally dissipated. 

“Not too much, Dis was married off. I am now responsible for the mountain guard.” His tone was flat, reciting facts.

“So much has changed.” She sighed. “Dis is off starting a life with someone. You are a prince and leader, while I’m…” She paused. “I’m just here.”

There was a moment of silence. “I am glad you’re just here.” They sat in quite for a while listening to the continuing work coming from the forge. 

“Do you think I could join the guard?” She asked, needing something to occupy her time. 

“Of course.”

She nodded allowing her thoughts to follow through her. “When will you be married?”

Thorin let out a deep groan, falling onto his back. “Not for a while, I haven’t agreed to any matches.”

“Oh?”

“I want time to be myself and serve Erebor without the complication of a marriage.” He tucked his arms under his head. 

“Do you want to be married?” She questioned.

“No idea.”

She understood his answer. Right now was hard enough. Tomorrow was also difficult. To think of marriage, a family seemed impossible, a far future not entirely possible. She didn’t really want to be married, tied to someone, obligated. Thorin already had obligations, responsibility to a kingdom. She understood why he was reluctant to add more to that. 

“Do you feel like the whole kingdom is on your shoulders?”

“Constantly.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to see you as royalty. To me you are just Thorin.”

“I hope it stays that way.” His voice was calm and even, truthful. His answer caused her to smile.

“You are a prince, perhaps I should accept that.” She said mostly to herself. “I suppose it is possible to be both, prince and friend.”

“And what if I become King?” He raised an eyebrow at her, with the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Well, I think that’s too much to ask.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Friend and King, not possible.”

“That is unfortunate.” Thorin’s tone was serious. Frin realized it was a real concern of his. 

“Thorin.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “When you become King, I will be by your side as a loyal servant and friend. Only if you will have me.” She meant every word. The boy who she knew was now a man but from what she could tell a good one. A year doesn’t change people, she reasoned. 

He didn’t respond, just stared at her face. “It is not wise,” he finally said, “to give your trust so eagerly.” Pulling himself onto his feet, he continued with a strange formality in his voice. “Come to the barracks tomorrow. We will put you through your paces.” 

She stood, her head only just below his. “I will be there, my Lord.” She said with a bow. It wasn’t sarcastic but respectful. When she raised her head, she saw him smiling down at her. 

“See you tomorrow.” He muttered before turning to leave. 

As she watched him disappear down a darkened corridor, she was less anxious than she had been all week. It appeared, from where she stood, the same friendships she had a year ago still existed. Life in the mountain wasn’t going to be as lonely as she feared.


	2. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frin needs to be tested before becoming one of the city's guards. She meets a couple older dwarves and fights a female dwarf. Will she be accepted as one of the guard, or will she be rejected?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Thank you everyone who had read this so far. I hope you are all enjoying it. Feel free to leave a comment about the story! I love you hear from you.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left a kudos. It fuels me to keep writing.
> 
> **************************

The crowded barracks were filled with armour clad dwarves, some in heavy metal armour, others in boiled leather. All were rushing around, grabbing hammers, axes, swords, and bows, which all hung around the room on various racks. It was so crowded, Frin had to stand in between two racks of weapons to be out of the way of the individuals making their way to the front gates. 

Eventually, the majority of the dwarves had left, leaving only an older greying dwarf, who’s beard split into a fork at its end. Not knowing who else to talk to she approached him.

“Excuse me?” She said politely. “Who do I speak with about joining the guard?”

The dwarf stopped adjusting his leathers, turning to face her. He gave her a quick look over before speaking. “I’m sorry las, but you are too young to join us.”

“Good sir, I can assure you I am of age.” Frin spoke firmly.

“You don’t even have hair on your face yet.” The dwarf cocked an eyebrow, not believing her.

Frin felt herself grow slightly annoyed. It wasn’t because he thought she was you but because she needed to explain herself. “Sir, I am Frin, daughter of Farin.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the pointed tip. “I am confident I will never grow hair on my face.”

The dwarf stood, gawking at her for a moment before collecting himself. “Forgive me.” He said with a small bow. “Balin, at your service. It appears you will need to speak to me.” He lifted his head. “First, I will put you up against someone of your size to assess your skills. I assume you have some skill with that blade.” He gestured towards the sword on her hip. She responded with a confident nod. 

Before leaving Erebor she’d been trained by various dwarven masters with axe, hammer and sword. When she was with the Elves of the Greenwood, she honed her skill with a sword. She was exceedingly confident. 

“Good,” he turned, sheathing a nearby sword. “Follow me.” He led her out of the barracks and out onto the battlements which overlooked the valley between Erebor and Dale. He continued to the left of the gate to where the wall met with the mountainside. Just beyond the dark opening, was a massive room. At the center was a pit filled with sand and dirt, Frin immediately recognized it’s purpose. In the space were a few racks of weapons, some made of wood, all for sparing. Inside there were only a few people. At the centre, a pair of warriors made their way towards the pit with real weapons in hand. 

Balin led her down into the room, toward a couple of benches lining the pit. Sitting down on one of the stone seats, he gestured for her to join him. Situating herself beside the older dwarf, she watched as the two sparing dwarves circled each other, taunting one another. 

“Do you actually know how to use that axe?” One said. His heavily braided beard swung as he shifted from foot to foot, a large hammer gripped between both hands. 

The second dwarf, axe in hand, growled. His back was to Frin but the line of hair down the centre of his mostly bald head stood out. With a sudden burst of ferocity he lunged at the dwarf who spoke, bringing the axe down towards his opposition. The hammer caught the axe in mid air and they began to dance in a flurry of attacks and parries. Their movements were swift and difficult to follow. Frin decided to watch their feet. It didn’t take long for her to anticipate the actions of each dwarf as they shifted their weight to strike or block.

“Don’t worry las, you won’t be fighting either of them.” Balin’s voice brought her attention away from the action. “That is my brother Dwalin.” He pointed toward the axe wielding dwarf. “That’s Kern. He is rough around the edges, best you avoid any altercations with him.”

“Noted.” She replied. “So who will I be fighting.”

“Dova,” he pointed to a female dwarf who was quite burly. Her blond hair was tied into a knot behind her head with two braids interlocking with her long sideburns with matching beads hanging on either side of her face. On her hips were two short swords, where she rested her hands.

“How good is she?” Frin asked curiously.

“If you are still standing after a few turns around the ring, I will be impressed.” Balin smirked at her. “She’s good, but I don’t expect you to do well. I want to see your grit.” Frin nodded, internally determined to beat her opponent. She knew if she didn’t win the fight the dwarves, despite Balin’s ruling, would see her as small and weak. 

Beside her, she heard Balin yell across the pit. “Dwalin we have a new prospective member.”The fight immediately stopped, both dwarfs sporting minor wounds. Balin gave her a small pat and nodded towards the ring. 

Standing, Frin shrugged her shoulders allowing her cloak to fall onto the bench revealing her leather armour and the simple grey tunic underneath. She wore simple cloth pants, with the usual boots. With one hand on her sword she walked, back straight, towards the ring.

From behind, she heard Balin call, “Dova put her through her paces.” Dova approached her on her right. 

“I hope you are ready.” Dova reached out towards her, Frin responded by clasping her forearm. “Dova, at your service.”

“Frin, at yours.” Frin kept a stoic look on her face. “If it’s all the same to you, I would prefer steel.”

Dova smirked broadly. “Perfect.” Her hands gripped the hilt of her swords. 

Frin allowed her hand to fall from her sword, and headed towards the large warhammer which hung from a rack nearby. She practiced in every discipline and wanted to show it. The hammer felt heavy in her hands but manageable. 

Turning back to the ring she squared off with her opponent, who had already pulled out both dwarven swords. With a speed Frin wasn’t expecting Dova lunged at her pulling her swords in front of her. Instantly, Frin pivoted on her heels allowing the steel of the swords to glance off the handle of the warhammer. In response, she lifted the hammer then allowed it to fall in a large swinging motion towards Dova’s back but the dwarf expected the counter and rolled out of reach. Just as the hammer was returned to its position across Frin’s body, Dova was on her again, making a combination of hack and slashing motions. Frin blocked some of the blows and parried others while simply dodging some.

A few more assaults later, Frin felt herself become tired. The strength of Dova’s attacks made it difficult for her to have the strength to block the blows and wield the warhammer. It was obvious she would lose the fight if she continued with the warhammer. As she parried another one of Dova’s feverish attacks, Frin remembered the importance of distraction.

Dova was once again on the opposite side of the ring from Frin preparing for another attack. “Dova!” Frin turned, flat footed towards her challenger. “Did you ever think that I’ve never used a warhammer before?” Dova jerked her head back in surprise. Frin used the opportunity to slowly walk towards her. “You see I thought it would be fun to swing a mighty hammer. What do you think? I think I’m doing pretty well.” Frin continued to speak while moving forward until she was just outside of the reach of Dova’s swords. “To be perfectly honest, the hammer is quite heavy in hand. I don’t think I could manage much longer.” Frin allowed her shoulders to sag and let out a heavy sigh. “You know what,” she said softly causing Dova to lean in to hear. “I’m lying.” She said, speaking loudly, simultaneously throwing the hammer across to her. 

The female dwarf was immediately caught off guard, dropped both swords and caught the hammer in her hand, as Frin hoped she would. As soon as the hammer left Frin’s hands it had been replaced by her elegant elvish blade. In an instant she was behind Dova with her sword against her neck.

“Do you yield?” Frin growled.

“I yield.” Dova replied. Frin immediately allowed her sword to drop, returning it to it’s sheath. Reaching in front of the dwarf, Frin took the hammer and replaced it on the rack it came from. When she turned around, Frin was greeted by Dova’s seething face. “You didn’t even try.” She spat.

“I tried not to be hit.” Frin replied frankly. Dova’s anger was rightly placed, Frin knew it. She toyed with the warrior, never showing her true ability. Dova scoffed, turned and stomped away.

“Not being hit is most of the battle.” Balin spoke from across the pit. No longer sitting he crossed the space approaching her. “Well done Las, you will fit in fine here.”

“Thank…” Frin started but was interrupted by the gruff voice of Dwalin from behind his brother.

“Arrogance will get someone killed.” He growled.

“Only myself.” Frin replied, frowning towards the dwarf. She believed she was confident, not arrogant. 

“I believe she will do fine brother.” Balin said, turning around. “Besides,” his voice lowered. Frin had to concentrate to hear his words. “You are in no position to speak on arrogance.” 

Frin struggled to hold in a laugh as Dwalin eyed his brother. Deciding to avoid any potential confrontation, she moved back over towards the stone benches. When she found herself standing over the carved stone a figure leaning in a doorway caught her eye. Looking up she saw the unmistakable stare of Thorin, intently watching her. 

She offered him a polite smile but when he smirked at her, her politeness disappeared. Cocking one eyebrow, she smirked right back, giving an exaggerated bow, snatching her outer cloak in the motion. She guessed he had seen the fight, or at least she hoped he did. 

Distracted by Thorin’s appearance, Frin didn’t notice Balin approach her from behind. “Do you know him?” His voice called her to jump.

“What!? She tried to compose herself. “Ah, yes. Thorin and I had many of the same tutors.” Balin simply nodded. 

“Well,” he continued. “It seems you are comfortable with your weapons, let's get you up on the wall for the day.” He led her back out of the room onto the wall. To Frin’s disappointment, Thorin had disappeared during her brief exchange with Balin.

Balin situated her on the far left side of the parapet, where there was nothing to look at. From her position, she could barely see the road to Dale. The day passed by slowly but Frin stood looking out over the rough landscape. When the sun had disappeared and the stars started to gleam, a dwarf clad in heavy armor approached her.

“I am to relieve you.” The voice sounded young but the dwarf’s beard was incredibly long, so it was hard to tell. 

“Thank you.” She said bowing her head. “Have a good night.”

“You as well.” 

Slowly, she walked the length of the wall, taking the time to feel the stone beneath her feet. When at last she stood over the main gate to Erebor, she stopped, glancing towards her home. Her feet were sore from standing all day but she was reluctant to return to her parents. Silently she debated what to do, where to be. Turning away from the interior of Erebor, she leaned over the parapet. The cool evening air combed through her hair. The air was different outside of the mountain, earthy and wet. Inside the air was moist, metallic. If there was a breeze it was warm, coming from the forges. 

Once again looking over the same scene she’d been looking at all day, she found herself encouraged to enjoy the exterior of the mountain. She made her way down one of the sets of stairs which lead down from the wall to the main road. At the bottom of the stairs, Frin glanced once more towards home, then turned towards Dale and left the Lonely Mountain.

She’d seen him standing there leaning on one of the grand pillars, seemingly waiting for her but she kept walking. A part of her knew he would follow, but another part of her was unsure. The Thorin she knew a year ago would have followed but the dwarf who existed now was still an unknown. 

For a few minutes she followed the road towards Dale, crossed the bridge, carefully listening for footsteps behind her. When she came to the crossroads, where a bridge continued to the right, to Ravenhill, and the road continued straight to Dale, she peered over her shoulder. There, following a short distance behind, managing to keep his footsteps relatively silent was Thorin’s familiar gait. An involuntary smile spread on her face before she turned up towards Ravenhill. Once on the opposite side of the bridge, she hopped down and started to skirt the edge of the river. 

She always loved the sound of rushing water. It was one of the things she missed from Mirkwood, the constant sound of water. There was something about it that made her feel present, alive. 

A short way up the river was a small outcropping. There she sat and waited for Thorin, the nerves starting to tangle in her gut. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him moving along the banks. Her nerves twisted.

Desperately, she tried to calm herself. Despite her lingering feelings which had spanned the past year, they were friends. She convinced herself shortly after leaving Erebor, that Thorin had no feelings for her other than friendship.

“Well done, today.” His voice came from beside her. Frin gave a small jolt because she was so caught up in her own thoughts. He noticed with a small chuckle.

“Thanks.” Frin spoke, staring at her hands.

“You didn’t have to toy with Dova.” 

“But I did.” Frin shrugged. “They wouldn’t have accepted me if I’d won with my weapon.”

“They would have.” Thorin’s baritone spoke to her insecurities. 

“Pointy ears and all.” She scoffed, knowing most dwarves despised her elvish heritage. 

“They would have.” He repeated softer. Frin didn’t need to look. His penetrating eyes were on her.

“How do you know that?” She asked pointedly, turning to face him. Her annoyance in his confidence, quickly faded when she found her face incredibly close to his. 

“I would have demanded it.” He didn’t move.

“Really?” She smirked, unsure he would have used his authority in such a manner. 

“Yes, I would have told them you are a superior warrior.” He reached a hand up towards her face. “Pointy ears and all.” He tucked her dark hair behind her ear, revealing the pointed tip.

His finger grazed the edge of her ear as he moved the dark strands of hair. Frin immediately lost all sense of her surroundings, completely absorbed in the feel of his hand, his musk, his voice.

Unmoving, she whispered, “Thorin?” The apprehension was clear in her voice. She wasn’t trying to hide it. His hand fell away from her face. Once again her eyes were down, staring at his hand, which propped him up against the rock they sat on. 

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Frin eventually decided to be forward. “Thorin,” she spoke again, her voice stronger. “Do you wish to simply have a friendship with me, which spans past nothing more than loyalty and trust?”

Thorin was silent. Frin could see he was thinking. Understanding he would need time to formulate an answer, she turned back towards the water while leaning against the cold stone behind her. She sat in silence with a small sigh, resigning herself to the hum of the rushing water. Inwardly, she was preparing for the rejection that was surely coming. She knew it was impossible for them to have a real relationship. Perhaps all she wanted was to know she wasn’t alone in her feelings. In the end, she was faintly aware that knowing his feelings may be worse than living in ignorance. 

“Frin,” his voice was tender. “I know what I would choose but it is not my choice. Despite my desires, my future will be arranged for me.” He sighed heavily. “A year has not changed you, nor has it I. We are the same, just older and wiser. My honor demands….” His voice trailed off. 

A darkness surpassing the night sky entered Frin’s mind. She knew. The answer wasn’t surprising. “Your honor,” she pulled herself to her feet, looking down at Thorin, who still sat. “Your honor is what makes you worth following. It is what makes you so…” She lost the words but continued. “Your future wife will be exceptionally blessed.” Turning to leave, Frin struggled to keep the pain of rejection from bubbling over. 

Thorin’s hand grabbed her arm. “You know I have a duty to my people.” His voice was firm. 

Spinning around, pain buring hot in her. “And if you didn’t.” She demanded. “If you weren’t the prince.”

He paused making Frin turn again to leave. “Do I have to say it?” The pain was evident in his voice. “Don’t you already know?” His tone struck her. Instantly she knew.

Frin, not turning to face him, nodded. She didn’t think she could bear to see his face. “I must go.” She whispered, hoping he would release her arm.

“I am sorry.” He whispered, grib becoming slack, releasing her.

Too confused and hurt to reply, Frin ran. She gracefully moved over the treacherous river bank back towards the bridge. Once she reached the bridge, instead of turning back to Erebor she headed towards Dale, straight across the landscape. 

Halfway across the open valley she stopped, chest heaving, out of breath. The tears which had been threatening to fall since she left Thorin, finally spilled over. She hated this, hated duty, responsibility. She hated dwarves and their pride. He needed to have the proper wife, not her. She wasn't highborn enough but that wasn’t why. It was obvious, she couldn’t be with him simply because her ears were pointed. Her mother was an elf. Only a dwarf could be queen and that was the way of it. 

Slumping down to the damp earth, she cried, allowing all her frustration to be expelled. The fact that she knew the answer, knew the rules and yet allowed herself to hope made her feel foolish, childish.

Eventually, when her tears ran dry and her anger with herself subsided, Frin went home to Erebor. The guards at the gate let her in easily, already informed of her position within their ranks. Through the mostly empty halls she made her way to her parents home. Once inside, it was clear no one was awake. Gingerly she crept into bed and fell asleep, armour still on and sword at her side. 


	3. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frin settles into her new role of as a member of the city guard. With her feelings for Thorin still raw, she attempts to deal with her tormented heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading!!
> 
> For all those who left Kudos thanks so much.   
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments, I would love to hear all your thoughs on this story.
> 
> ****

The days passed on quietly. Everyday Frin stood at her post on the wall, uncomfortably alone with her thoughts. Thorin had been avoiding her but if she was honest with herself, she’d been avoiding him as well. She was embarrassed, embarrassed she asked, embarrassed she voiced her feelings out loud to him. During the day she constantly dwelled on him, wishing things were different. At night, she dreamt of a life free from duty where he was with her. Frin felt incredibly alone.

After a week of guarding the wall, Frin found herself wandering through the barracks one morning trying to hold her head high despite her desire to fade into the background. The room was as crowded as ever, dwarves moving around while grabbing armour and weapons. There were others taking their armour off to head home and some just rested. Frin, however, leaned against a wall twirling a dagger in her hands waiting for the room to clear. Usually, she simply walked through the barracks on her way to the wall but that morning Balin had asked her to meet. So, she stood waiting for Balin to arrive. 

“Frin!” A gruff female voice called to her. Looking up in the direction of her name, Frin saw the familiar face of Dova, the female dwarf she had beaten in the fighting pit. “Balin’s in the pit, come on!” She called gesturing towards the doorway leading to the pit. Reluctant to follow, Frin shoved herself forward. Together the two women left the barracks in silence. 

The quiet between them grew increasingly uncomfortable as they walked. Frin was hesitant towards her, unsure how the dwarf viewed her. She knew she’d embarrassed Dova when they’d first met and wouldn’t be surprised if Dova held a grudge.

“So,” Frin spoke as they walked along the parapet. She hoped light conversation could ease the palpable tension. “Do you know what we’re doing?”

“Nope,” Dova smiled. “But the group being gathered is interesting. You, me, Balin, Dwalin, and,” Dova paused.

“And?” Frin asked with a small laugh.

Dova leaned closer to her, “Prince Thorin.”

“Oh?” Frin asked. “Does the prince interact with the guard often?”

“No,” Dova replied. “I’ve seen him around, from a distance. He’s in charge of the city guard but he speaks mostly with Balin, who speaks with us.” Dova came to a sudden stop just before the darkened corridor, which led to the fighting pit. 

“What?” Frin was suddenly concerned. Dova looked terrified.

“I’ve never met any of The Family before.” She looked at Frin, panic showing in her eyes. 

“It’s easy.” Frin spoke slowly trying to calm her. She was a little taken back. She never would have expected Dova, the gruff warrior to be so unsettled by royalty. “First, remember you are a warrior, then approach. When we have entered the social circle, you can simply bow your head and say ‘my lord’ or nothing, but just bow your head.” Frin patted Dova on her back. “Don’t overthink it. Just do what I do.” Dova nodded nervously. 

Taking the lead, Frin entered the fighting pit. The room was just as empty as it had been the first time she’d set foot in it, except for the small gathering of dwarves in the centre of the fighting ring. Instantly she recognized all three of them, Thorin, Balin and Dwalin. Without pause, refusing to show any sign of weakness, Frin moved forward. 

Beneath the tough exterior, she was full of dread. She wasn’t ready to face him, not yet, but she had no choice. To ignore Balin’s request would be detrimental to her reputation. Despite the small voice insisting she ran away, Frin approached, stone faced and determined.

When she was a short distance from the group of dwarves, Balin noticed them. “Dova, Frin, good you’re here.” He called, causing the other two to take notice of them.

Once she was beside Balin, Frin turned towards Thorin and bowed her head. Beside her Dova mimicked her. After the formal acknowledgement of the Prince, she turned to Balin. “What is this about?”

“Someone attacked a group of merchants from the Iron Hills.” Dwalin huffed, arms crossed.

“This is the third attack in the past few weeks. We will be going out to find out who is doing this.” Balin continued.

Frin cocked a curious eyebrow. “When you say we…”

“All those standing here.” Thorin spoke with clear authority. 

“Of course my Lord.” Frin bowed her head. “Pardon my humble question, is it not dangerous for the line of Durin to venture so far from the safety of the mountain?” It didn’t make sense to her, he was the Prince. Why would he leave the mountain for a task such as this? She also did not want to go on a journey with the very person she’d been avoiding. 

“I am tasked with defending the city and those within its walls.” Thorin spoke strongly, almost angrily. “If someone is attacked on the road, is our city truly safe? I think not.” He spoke down at her.

Frin was immediately taken back, not realizing how seriously Thorin took his responsibility to the city. A tiny twinge of anger grew in her, hating how he’d spoken to her. Knowing better than to show her annoyance, she buried it behind a neutral face. “I apologize, my Lord.” 

“It’s a fair question,” Balin interjected, then continued. “We will travel the road with a cart, two on the front looking like merchants. The rest will be hidden in the back. We will take our time and camp along the road. Hopefully we will find these people.” Turning to Dwailin, he asked. “Do you have everything?”

“Rations and supplies are already loaded.” Dwalin responded gruffly.

“I’ll grab a cloak from barracks on our way out, other than that, I am prepared.” Frin spoke. Dova nodded her agreement. 

“Good, we’ll meet you by the gate.” Balin dismissed them. Both women bowed once more to Thorin before taking their leave.

Once they were out on the parapet Dova turned to Frin. “He’s quite intimidating.” She exclaimed as they walked.

“If you say so.” Frin felt the despair return, instantly smothering any other emotion.

“Don’t you find him intimidating? He basically yelled at you.” Her voice was full of amazement.

“He is royalty, born into importance. I imagine he isn’t used to being questioned.” Frin sighed. “At the end of the day, he is just young and trying to prove himself to everyone.”

Dova paused for a moment. “I suppose.” She seemed to be processing Frin’s words.

“It’s obvious,” Frin continued. “Why else would he bring Balin and Dwalin in addition to himself. They oversee all of us. Thorin is trying to prove to them that he’s worth following.” Frin paused. “Dova? Do you think the Prince is worth following?”

The pair paused outside of the barracks. Dova stroked her thin chin hair. “I know we are supposed to trust our King and the princes but I suppose it remains to be seen if Thorin is worth following.”

Frin nodded agreeing with her. She was interested to see who Thorin had truly become. In private, he was the same as he’d always been, kind but dutiful. The question remained, who was he to the common folk, to those below him. 

Turning into the empty barracks, both women immediately grabbed warm traveling cloaks. Dova grabbed a heavy cloak made of worn leather with a hood. Frin opted for a simple canvas cloak with a warm knitted material underneath. The hood was light and draped nicely over her head. 

Glancing towards Dova, who was just finishing affixing the cloak over her shoulders. “You ready?” Frin asked, he cloak already draped over her shoulders. Dova gave a slight nod, heading towards the barracks door which led to the main road. There sitting on the side of the road to allow people to pass was a covered wagon. Dwalin, Balin and Thorin were all waiting around casually talking to one another. 

As they approached, Balin called to them. “Frin up front with me.” 

As everyone started to move into the wagon. Frin pulled herself onto the driver’s seat beside Balin. Once seated she took a moment to ensure her ears would remain hidden under her hair and hood. 

“Let’s go.” Thorin’s voice called from the back. Balin made a clicking noise with his mouth, erging the ponies forward. Gradually, they made their way down the road, following it around Dale towards the Iron Hills.

It was a beautiful autumn day, the scarce trees around the valley were starting to turn golden. A crisp wind blew from the North bringing a cool freshness, while a warming sun shone down through a cloudless sky. 

Frin leaned against the back of the bench she and Balin shared, closed her eyes, allowing the sun to warm her face. “I should thank you.” She spoke without opening her eyes to Balin. “You gave me a chance when others wouldn’t.”

“Your welcome Lass.” Balin smiled. “In all honesty, I already knew you had some skill. I understand you learned from some of the best.”

“Who told you that?” She asked, her eyes now open looking at him with mild surprise. Perhaps he knew her father or was one of her tutors and she forgot. It stood to reason, Balin knew his way around Erebor and could have easily known her family.

“Well, I know the royal family pretty well and it seems you shared some of the same teachers.” Frin knew there was something he wasn’t saying. There was an inkling, which made her believe Thorin was involved. He had said she would be able to join the guard but she didn’t expect him to ensure her acceptance.

“Well thank you anyway.” She sighed.

“Don’t take offense.” He gave her a small nudge with his elbow. “Seeing you fight was a privilege and was entertaining. Dova is well skilled but you made her look untrained. It was highly amusing. I look forward to seeing what happens when you are serious.”

“Do you believe I am arrogant?” She said suddenly, referring to Dwalin’s comment about her.

“That remains to be seen,.” He shrugged. “The line between arrogance and confidence is often thin and blurry. We will see with time.” With his statement came a comfortable silence as the ponies continued steadily down the road. 

The valley they were traveling through started to close in as they approached the eastern mountains. The road became more difficult. The once sparse forests were now dense interlocking branches, hiding the steep cliffs and predators lurking just beyond the road.

As the day came to a close, the sun disappeared behind the mountains. The browning trees cast long shadows on the ground. The once comfortable combination of sun and breeze was now growing frigid. The cold wind dominated any warmth the air held.

Pulling her cloak tighter around her, Frin listened to the forest. Beyond the constant sound of hooves and the creaks of the wagon, she could hear the occasional call of the small woodland creatures. To her annoyance, her attention was quickly turned away from the calm of nature to the cart by an goan coming from behind her.

“Balin.” The grumbling voice of Dwalin came forward. “When are we stopping.”

“We will rest up ahead for the night.” Balin replied without turning. 

A short while later Balin directed the cart towards an open meadow off of the road. The wagon rocked violently moving across the uneven ground. Frin grabbed onto her seat to stop herself from being thrown off. In the rear of the wagon, the groans intensified with the combined voices of all three dwarves. Frin smirked silently to herself at the sound of Thorin being thrown about. Finally, they came to a stop on the opposite side of the open field nestled against the treeline. 

Jumping down, Frin quickly started unhitching the ponies, taking the care to inspect each one. As she worked she could hear the sounds of everyone else preparing a camp. The bay pony in front of her nuzzled her hand as she removed the bridle. 

Eventually, the ponies were tied, fed and resting. Frin felt like she was covered in hair and dirt. She had forgotten how dirty ponies were but their presence was soothing. Desperate to be clean, she wandered towards the edge of the forest. She hoped to hear signs of a stream or water.

The sun had dipped behind the trees casting the landscape in a hollow light, which only existed before the darkness settled in. In front of the wagon, the dwarves had set up a fire and were merrily eating, looking over the open meadow. 

Carefully, Frin paced the forestline. When she got out of earshot of the dwarves she listened, closing her eyes. It took a few moments but eventually she could make out the gentle trickle of water in the distance, to the northwest. Knowing it would be better to inform the group of her intentions, she made her way back to the fire. 

“I’m going to a river nearby to wash.” She said plainly when she approached. “If you require me, I’ll be to the northwest.”

The group all stared at her for a moment, while Frin attempted to avoid Thorin’s heavy gaze. “Right Lass.” Balin said with a gentle smile. “If you are gone for more than an hour we’ll come looking.”

“Very well.” She nodded then turned to leave. 

The forest was quiet and calming as she walked alone. Nothing stirred as she made her way towards the sound of moving water. The deeper she went into the forest the steeper the terrain became. Slowing her pace she ascended the incline. When she crested the rise, she found what she was looking for.

On a small plateau at the base of a small cliff a small waterfall emptied into a shallow pool. In the gentle moonlight the water glistened, beaconing. It reminded her of the Woodland Realm and the elves who adored the starlight. They would often lounge in open pools observing the stars on cloudless nights. Glancing up she could see the gentle twinkle in the sky above the trees. 

With a happy sigh, she removed her cloak, draping it on a nearby tree. It was soon joined by the rest of her garments. Her sword however was placed at the edge of the pool near the waterfall, so if needed she could easily grab it. 

The water was cool as she submerged herself into the water. It was comfortable once her body adjusted to the temperature. For a few minutes she just laid in the water, letting the dirt and the day’s travel melt off her skin. The moment of blissfulness was cut short as her mind began to drift. 

There was something incredibly attractive about him in armour, as he’d been that day. If she didn’t know better, he was just another warrior, another member of the guard.

“It would be so much simpler.” She muttered to herself. If he was just a warrior he would be free to choose her. Would he even choose her if he could? Her mind raced in endless impossible circles.

Annoyed with herself she stood in the shallow pool and approached the waterfall. She allowed the water to rush over her naked form. The cold air licked her damp skin causing her to immediately feel the chill of the night air. She stood for as long as she could stand it. Feeling the cold and constant shower of water was a pleasant distraction but it only lasted a moment.

A twig snapped nearby, causing Frin’s head to immediately turn. Not seeing any movement, she gingerly grabbed her sword and hid behind the flow of water, looking out into the darkness. Just as she had managed to steady her breathing, she saw a figure approach the pool. At first she thought it could be an orc, but as the figure came closer to the water she recognized him.

Thorin glanced around the pool clearly looking for her. She was surprised he hadn’t seen her clothes hanging nearby. Watching from behind the water, she studied him. 

He had shed his heavy chainmail and wore only padded leather armor. With a hand on his sword, he moved around the pool looking for evidence of her. As time wore on he grew more frantic, glancing around rapidly. 

She knew he cared about her. If she was honest with herself she knew how he felt. His presence and clear emotion on his face made it clear. He cared more than he should. A part of her wanted to wait for him to leave, still uneasy with his presence.

In a frenzy, Thorin turned his back to her and peered into the darkness of the forest. Frin, taking pity on the dwarf, decided he had suffered enough. Silently she slid out from the waterfall. Her bare feet were silent on the soft earth. With her sword in hand she approached him. Before Thorin had time to react, her sword was at his throat. 

“You need to be careful, Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, Prince of Erebor.” She hissed in his ear. “Many would pay handsomely for your head.” She felt his body instantly relax at her voice.

“And are you willing to take it?” He asked quietly, seductively.

“There is little benefit for me if you are alive.” She said simply, trying not to allow his tone to affect her. As soon as the words left her mouth, he pushed her hand which held the sword and spun around to face her. His mouth was open to speak but the sight of her stopped the words where that sat.

“Do you really wish me dead?” He spoke after a moment having regained his composure. 

He was so close to her, Frin found herself looking at the ground in between their feet. “It would be simpler if one of us were dead, would it not?” She paused. “I don’t know if I can be near you Thorin.”

“I tried to stay away but you’ve already been gone so long.” He was looking at her. She could feel his eyes memorizing her. A strong hand gently ran down her bare shoulder. “I don’t know if I am strong enough to stay away from you.”

“Should I go back to the Woodland realm?” She asked, meeting his eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave.” She could see the conflict on his face. 

“It would be easier for you if I wasn’t here.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You could focus on your duty to your people. I am a distraction.”

“Is my honor so important?” He asked himself. 

She’d been asking herself the same question. Was her honor so important? The husband who would surely be picked for her would make it known if her honor was cast aside. 

She saw Thorin become resolved. His green eyes bore into hers. “I will not destroy your honor, for my selfishness.” His voice was firm. Turning his back to her he continued in the same tone he’d used when she questioned him earlier that day. “Grab you things, the others will be worried. Next time do not go alone, take Dova.”

Quietly, her heart still full of sadness she dressed herself, while Thorin leaned on a tree, not facing her. When she was ready she approached him and they moved back through the forest together. 

During the long walk, all Frin could think of was the look on his face. She swore he would have given into his desires if she’d not spoken. A part of her wished she’d remained silent. Her thoughts were muddy, she didn’t even know what she wanted any more. The longer she dwelled on the warrior in front of her the more confused she got.

When they were almost within sight of the fire glow, Frin whispered to Thorin. Her curiosity was getting the best of her. “Why did you follow me?” From her position slightly behind him she watched his shoulders momentarily sag. 

“You were gone for a while.” He stated flatly, revealing nothing. She once again wasn’t sure what she was expecting or wanting to hear.

“Right.” She said sarcastically as they came around the wagon and into the firelight. “My Lord.” She nodded towards him before sitting beside Dova, who handed her a bowl of stew. 

“Right, where was I.” Dwalin continued.

“Fighting three orcs at once, with not but a twig.” Dova smirked and nudged Frin. 

“They were swinging their swords only barely missing my head.” Dwalin continued his story, which had started before she’d arrived.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Dwalin beguiled everyone with his stories of battle. Frin suspected most of them were slightly exaggerated. Frequently, she would glance at Balin, who often looked bewildered at his brother. She mused at how different the brothers were. Balin, in her opinion, was kind, understanding and slow to anger. Dwalin was the opposite, quick to anger and violence, not to mention stubborn. 

Throughout the evening, Frin avoided Thorin’s gaze only looking at him when it was absolutely necessary. Everytime she bravely chanced a look when the conversation deemed it acceptable, Thorin’s piercing eyes met hers. She would always shy away from the intensity of the look electing to look into the fire’s dancing flames instead. 

When the moon was high in the sky, Frin felt the dreariness that only came from a day of travel tug at her eyelids. Bowing to the group, she said good night and entered the wagon, where everyone was going to be sleeping. She positioned herself beside the driver’s seat laying against the rough wood. A bundle of grain propped her head into a comfortable position, while her sword lay perfectly beside her at the ready. Outside she heard the low grumble of everyone still talking around the fire. While listening to the comforting sound of Balin’s voice, Frin fell asleep.

In the midst of her slumber, Frin felt a hand on her thigh bringing her back to the wagon. Surrounding her was cold darkness. It took her a moment but as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, the details of her surroundings became clear. The canvas cover gently moved with the breeze. Sleeping dwarven bodies slept while Dwalin’s back silhouetted the entrance.

Once again the hand on her thigh moved, instantly drawing her attention back to herself.. She looked down slowly and saw a familiar hand on her leg. Holding her breath, her eyes followed the hand, to the arm, to the face. Thorin’s calm sleeping face faced her as he slept on his side. Gingerly she shifted so she was face to face with him. His hand subconsciously moved to her hip causing a hitch in her controlled breathing. For a time she watched him sleeping, imagining against her own better judgement a life where this was her reality.

For a moment, she stared at his lips, wondering what they would feel like on her own. Quietly she debated the risk. One kiss wouldn’t wake him or anyone else. One kiss might sate her desire for him. Ever so slightly she moved closer to him so she could feel his gentle breath on her face. 

Suddenly, a small amount of terror grew in her. “Thorin?” She whispered ever so quietly, hoping he was truly asleep. Nothing moved, not an eyelid or a muscle. He was asleep. The sudden realization dawned on her. He wasn’t consciously touching her. They were just close. Thorin was asleep. 

With a barely audible sigh, Frin rolled over, turning her face from his. He was always going to be there, just within reach but just outside of it. A silent tear fell from her face wetting the wooden floor beneath her. Her heart felt tight in her chest, cracking against the weight of her desire and disappointment. Perhaps it would be better if she left for the Woodland realm. She wondered if the distance would make it easier. 


	4. Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frin and the company of dwarves continue on thier journey trying to find those who have been attacking travelers on the road.   
> Still confilicted by her own feelings for Thorin, Frin endures the torment.

The following days passed with little to no events of interest. Frin continued to ride alongside Balin on the wagon. The evenings became quieter. The stories were fewer and Frin swore Thorin was pretending she didn’t exist. In the darkness, she would awaken to his touch. Sometimes his hand would be placed on her hip, others his arms would pull her tight against his chest. Every night, she would tell herself it could never be real. It was just a dream which existed in a world different from their own.

When they arrived in the Iron Hills Thorin commanded they turn around and head immediately back to Erebor. Their wagon only came within sight to the dwarven lands before turning around.

Two days into the return journey, when the sun was high in the sky but covered by a thick layer of overcast, Balin turned to her. “Are you alright Lass?” His voice was soft and quiet. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”

For a moment Frin debated not answering him or lying, but she needed someone to talk to. The words seem to burst out of her troubled thoughts. “I...I just don’t know if I belong with all of you.” She sighed looking at her hands sitting in her lap.

“What makes you say that Lass.” Balin voiced his concern.

“I have always thought of myself as more dwarf than elf but I am beginning to realize dwarves will only ever see me as an elf.” Frin felt ashamed for her sudden lack of confidence. “My ears make me obvious to all who notice. If it wasn’t for them, I would just be a weak dwarf, a little scrawny.” 

“It is ‘cause they don’t know you.” There was a small, reassuring smile on the older dwarf’s face. “Everyone makes assumptions when they first meet a person but time with them changes those assumptions.” 

Frin exhalled through her nose, a small false smile on her mouth. “I suppose that is true.” She could feel Balin staring at her, studying her. She felt extremely exposed, realizing he was able to see her so plainly.

“There is a certain someone you are referring to.” It was a statement made Frin’s stomach sink.

She offered a small nod. 

“You father is a Lord. Surely a dwarf can overlook certain parts of your heritage in favor of others.” He was trying to be reassuring. 

“He has a tremendous amount of responsibility and pressure from family.” Frin spoke, willing the pain not to surface. “My father is not so high in rank for my mixed blood to be ignored,” she paused absentmindedly touching her ear. “Anyway, his family would never allow it.”

Balin gave her an understanding look. “Families often come in the way. Is it what you want, to be married, me a lady...forgive me Lass.” He shrugged slightly. “You don’t strike me as a woman who takes easily to domestic life.”

Frin hadn’t really thought about it. Without Thorin as an option, she didn’t want to be tied to anyone. “Only him.” She stated. “I cannot imagine being tied to anyone. Forced to be a wife. He understands me...I think...He wouldn’t force me to be anything other than myself.”

“You want to be free.”

“Yes.”

“Lass.” He took one hand off the reins to pat her shoulder. “Do whatever it is that will bring you joy. Yes, there is heartache and pain but that’s life. This dwarf, whoever he is, because of his obligations is allowing you freedom.” He paused. “Imagine you married him, with all his responsibility and obligation, how much of that would become yours?”

Frin allowed his words to settle in her mind. No matter how much she desired Thorin, she did not want the responsibility that came with being with him publicly. To act with decorum, follow the rules, to have a duty to the people of Erebor was all too much. It was terrifying.”

“I don’t want any of it.” She whispered to herself, then turning to Balin gave a genuine smile. “I’ve been so focused on what I can’t have. Thank you Balin.”Balin smiled at the road, while the ponies led them on their way. “You know I might be tempted to say you’re wise.” She giggled.

“I wouldn’t go saying that too loudly.” He laughed back.

The rest of the day was calm. Frin felt as though a weight had been lifted off of her. When they stopped for the evening and gathered around the fire she didn’t feel the need to avoid Thorin. She smiled and enjoyed the personalities around her. 

Now that she was paying attention, she noticed Dova. Despite her suave demeanor when they first met, she was quiet. Frin noticed how she observed the warriors around her, learning, but the more she drank the more she loosened up. 

“Dova,” Frin leaned over toward her after dinner. “I apologize for making a game of our fight.”

Dova let out a deep bellied laugh. The beer in her hand spilled onto the ground. “I accept the apology but I can recognize a warrior more skilled than myself.”

“You are quite skilled yourself.” Frin smirked at her.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Dova took a deep gulp of her beer. “My Da, works in the forges. He told me to learn ‘ow to fight. He did neh want me to work the iron like ‘im.” An accent Frin had never heard come from the dwarf started to spill out. Dova was deep in the beer, which probably contributed to the current conversation.

“He wanted better for you.” Frin observed. 

“Yea’ he’s very proud of his daughter.” She said from inside her mug. “Can neh wait to get ‘ome. He won’t believe I’ve journeyin’ with Thorin!” Her voice gradually grew louder. Frin glanced over to Thorin who was quietly laughing to himself, while sharpening the sword in his hands. “He’ll be braggin’ to anyone who’ll ‘ear ‘im!”

Frin let out a laugh. “I bet he will.” She took a moment to laugh with Dova who kept going on about her father. Dwalin who was also deep into his own mug started to contribute, suggesting Thorin should make a show of shaking her hand when they arrived home. 

Even though she was greatly amused by the two drunken dwarves, she soon found herself in need of solitude. Quietly she excused herself heading into the wagon. 

While laying on her back, an arm supporting her neck, she listened to conversation continuing outside. Desperately, she tried to imagine her future. Perhaps she would go explore the wilds, visit Rivendell. Closing her eyes, she focused on hearing everything, imagining herself alone on the road. Slowly the layers of her surroundings started to show themselves to her.

Underneath the voices, was the gentle crackle of burning wood. Above her a gentle breeze ruffled the dry leaves, coaxing them loose. Occasionally in the far distance, an animal would call to another. Then, unexpectedly, on the opposite side of the wagon in the trees, just beyond the dark forest line, a twig snapped. It wasn’t a small dry snap but heavier, a cause for concern.

Frin instantly sat up, turning her head towards the sound. She could hear careful footsteps, creeping deeper into the forest. The quiet crush of dry leaves and rustle of grass. After a few moments of listening the footsteps stopped, not because they were too far away but because the movement stopped. She guessed the creature was only thirty paces away.

Back towards the fire she heard the familiar voice of Thorin wishing everyone goodnight. As he entered the wagon, it rocked gently with his weight. When his eyes met hers, she immediately brought her finger to her mouth. Quietly, he creeped forward so they’re faces were only a breath away. Leaning forward she whispered, while willing her emotions to remain calm in his proximity.

“Thorin,” she whispered into his ear. “We’re being followed. Footsteps to the west, thirty paces.”

Thorin didn’t reply but gave a curt nod, placing a hand on his sword. Frin mimicked his movements. Together they sat still, at the ready, while Bwalin joked drunkenly with Dova.

“We should pretend to sleep.” Thorin drew close to her again, the gentle rubble of his voice in her ear. When she gave him a quizzical look, he continued. “They're too drunk to be silent. You and I will stay on watch.”

Frin understood his reasoning and gave a nod, laying back down. Dova turned out to be exceptionally loud whenever beer was involved. While, Dwalin would probably charge blindly straight into the woods in his current condition. She wished Balin would come into the wagon so they’d have his aid but he tended to be the last to bed. It had taken her a few nights to notice, but Balin always made sure the horses were secure and the fire was dying before taking his rest. It was admirable, his care for others. 

Eventually, everyone entered the wagon, some more clumsily than others. Balin, as predicted was the last in. When the snoring started, Frin focused towards the forest desperately listening past her companions. 

After a few minutes of listening, she heard nothing. Despite the lack of evidence she was convinced someone was watching then. Whatever she heard earlier was still there. Beside her Thorin’s eyes stared straight at the canvas. Frin was amazed at his dedication. It was obvious that he hadn’t heard the noise himself but still believed her. She appreciated the trust.

The time wore on and the tiredness for the day’s travel started to linger behind Frin’s eyes. Carefully, she rolled onto her side to face Thorin, who to her surprise was already watching her. 

“I am going to sleep for a few hours,” she whispered. “Will you keep an ear out?”

Thorin nodded his head. “Then we trade.”

She nodded in return, placing an arm under her head. When her eyes closed sleep took her instantly. It felt like she’d only slept a few minutes when Thorin gently nudged her. Even in the darkness, she could see the dark circles under his eyes.

Propping herself onto her elbows, she whispered. “Anything?”

He shook his head and lowered himself into a comfortable position. Much like her, sleep took him instantly. His mouth fell open slightly, followed by the gentle hum of his breathing.

Deciding it was best to sit up, she crossed her legs and listened. The hours slipped by and nothing was amiss. Eventually, Frin could see the sun start to warm the dark sky through the openings on either side of the wagon. The blackness of night turned to grey, then blue, then orange. Slowly, the dwarves around her started to awaken. Large yawns, and groaning replaced the cacophony of snoring. 

Frin got up and made her way out into the dewy morning. The crisp air caused her to wrap her cloak tightly around her shoulders. If she wasn’t so distracted by the perceived danger, she would have marveled in the beauty of the morning. Tiny droplets of water clung, partly frozen to the undergrowth. The sun bounced off the trees causing them to shine like silver. 

Casually, she made her way into the forest to relieve herself, taking a note not to look suspicious. Glancing around her while taking care of her morning duties, she hoped to see whoever was lingering just outside their camp. Seeing and hearing nothing, she made her way back to the wagon. With everyone waking, Frin took it upon herself to prepare the horses and begin packing the wagon. 

When she was halfway through repacking the wagon, after hitching the horses when Thorin emerged. He cast her a questioning look, which Frin interpreted as a question about the mysterious noise. She responded with a slight turn of her head, which caused him to farrow his brow. It was reassuring to see him just as unnerved as she was.

It was clear that whoever was out there didn’t want to be seen. Frin suspected they were being followed. Probably a scout sent to find a suitable target with the rest of the gang following behind. Unfortunately, they’d seen every member of their party. Perhaps she could convince everyone in the back to play drunk and pose less of a threat. That way they could encourage an attack while still having their wits about them.

When the last sack was loaded, Frin took her normal seat beside Balin. Leaning behind her she whispered to the dwarves in the back. “We are being followed. Pretend you are all drunk, sing, be loud. Perhaps they will attack.” She didn’t have to look behind her to feel the look of confusion on Dwalin and Dova’s faces. Thankfully, Thorin seemed to be in agreement. 

“Dwalin!” He laughed. “Pass me a beer. Fill it up, don't be stingy.” His enthusiasm seemed to encourage the others who began speaking loudly. It didn’t take long for the sounds of merriment to travel past the wagon and into the surrounding forest.

Realizing she might as well play her part she leaned back. “Pass me one of those!” She reached her hand back and was instantly given a mug, which sloshed with liquid as she brought it back to her lips. Frin wasn’t sure what she was expecting but when the water hit her throat she found herself pleased. 

As the day progressed, the merriment continued. It was about mid afternoon when a figure stood in the middle of the road, seemingly alone. Frin continued to drink from her mug trying to seem ignorant to the danger. When they got closer the figure became clear. 

A malnourished orc stood blocking their way with a rusted blade in hand. Orcs were normally seen out in the wilds, on roads less travelled. This orc looked worse than any Frin had seen before. It’s grey skin shone in the daylight like the creature was suffering from a fever. Hesitantly, Balin brought the cart to a stop a few lengths away from the sickly creature. As soon as the cart stopped, ten orcs accompanied by a few wargs emerged snarling from the forest. All were a reflection of the first. The wargs snarled, ribs visible under their matted fur.

Without hesitation, Frin leapt to her feet, shrugged off her cloak and lept at the nearest orc. Her burst of movement caught the orc off guard, allowing her to plunge her sword deep into his gut. To her right, she could hear the fast approaching snarls of a warg. Nimbly, she removed her sword from the dying orc and spun it around. The blade met the warg’s face with a splash of crimson but the sharp teeth continued to come towards her. Urgently she slashed at it until finally the creature went limp on the ground. 

Having the briefest moment, Frin glanced around her. The sounds of steel on steel rung through the air. Around her she saw her companions kill their attackers. To her left, an orc fled into the forest. 

Instantly, she burst into a sprint to follow it. If there was a chance the creature was going for reinforcements she needed to stop it, or find their camp. Either way the ugly creature wasn’t getting away. As she ran the back of the lone orc grew closer and closer. A tiny part of her mind told her it was too easy but she ignored it. Quickly she found her way into a clearing when the orc quickly spun around and came straight at her. With an overconfident grin she gripped her sword, just when she was within the range of the orc’s heavy swing, she fell to knees and slid at it, sword catching the creature in the leg. Spinning around Frin buried her blade in the creature’s back, causing it to immediately slump to the ground. 

Feeling the fatigue enter her body she stood and took in her surroundings. She stood in the middle of an empty meadow, surrounded by lush foliage, speckled by golden leaves. Small definite flowers moved gently in the breeze. The beauty of the meadow and forest was immediately interrupted by Thorin’s voice calling her name loudly through the forest. Just as she turned towards his voice she saw him emerge from the trees, sword in hand. 

When their eyes met, a small smile of relief spread over his face. Frin smiled back at him, when a hidden figure lunged at him from a tree. 

“No!” She bellowed, launching herself toward them. The attacker had sent Thorin tumbling across the ground and into a tree. As Frin sprinted desperately towards them, she could hear Thorin groan but his body didn’t seem to move. As she approached quickly, she saw the orc gather itself from the ground. It moved menacingly towards Thorin, the weapon posed to puncture him. Desperate to protect him, Frin lept sword first towards the orc.

As she fell on top of the dwarf, she felt the creature’s sword meet hers. Without thinking she parried the attack. She now had the orc’s full attention. Desperately she tried to get closer to the creature's legs with a roll, but the edge of it’s blade caught her in the side. Frin involuntarily let out a pained scream. With a sudden burst of anger she blindly swang her sword towards the creature above her. She heard it groan, then hit the ground. 

Panting from the pain in her side she pulled herself to her feet, using her sword to help her. The orc lay unmoving beside her. Still lying against the tree, Thorin groaned once more but started to pull himself to his feet. The panic Frin had been holding in her chest released causing her to momentarily stop focusing on where she was walking. Her foot caught on an exposed root causing a jolt to her side. Excruciating pain shot through her causing her to lean heavily on her sword to retain her balance.

Out of her mouth came a strangled exhale. Behind her now closed eyes all she could see was red as her side pulsed with the beat of her heart. Willing the pain to stop she froze, hoping the throbbing would cease. 

“Frin?” Thorin’s voice came from beside her. 

Slowly, she opened her eyes unsure if seeing would cause more pain. In front of her Thorin’s blue eyes met hers. She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a pained groan as she unconsciously shifted her weight causing her side to shift. 

“I’ve got you.” Thorin positioned himself under her arm opposite the wound. “Come on.” 

Hesitantly, Frin allowed Thorin to take her weight. He carefully lowered her to the ground. Despite the delicateness of his movements Frin was overcome with pain. When she was finally on the ground, laying against the same tree Thorin had been knocked into, he began to remove her armour and tunic. 

In silence Thorin worked. Once the tunic was removed, Frin could feel his fingers moving around the source of her pain. As the minutes passed and the pain from moving subsided, Frin’s curiosity got the better of her. Shifting her neck slightly, she glanced down at her left side. Across her pale skin over her ribs was a large slice, which seemed to wrap around her side.

“How bad is it?” She whispered to Thorin, unable to see the full extent of the wound.

“It will leave a scar.” His voice was forced. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, worried for him.

“Yes.”

“Why’d you follow me?” Frin spoke firmly. “That was reckless. You could have gotten yourself killed.” 

“You cannot lecture me about being reckless.” He frowned at her.

“I am not a prince.” She simply stated. “You should have let me go.” 

Frin watched as his eyes glazed from her face to her side, then back to her face once again. “You should know by now, I cannot simply let you go.”

Immediately, Frin knew he was no longer talking about the battle. It was true, he felt something for her. She saw it. Her heart lifted but the weight of his duty kept it tethered to the earth. “Thorin. You have to.” She knew she needed to let him go or they’d both be in pain for eternity. Gingerly she placed a hand on his cheek. “But,” she paused. “You have my loyalty. Ask me to say and I will.” Once again his blue eyes gazed at her, something unreadable stirred beneath the surface. 

“I would like to kiss you.” His voice was soft and quiet. 

An unknown force caused her stomach to lift. She could feel her heart quicken, increasing the pain at her side, which she barely noticed. “You may.” She whispered back.

His face came towards hers and before she knew it his lips were pressed against hers. She could taste the sweat on his lips from the exertion of battle. The taste and feel of him was perfect. Frin felt herself become lost in the moment. The only thing that existed was him.

When he pulled away from her, she felt herself completely bewildered, unsure of what to do next. “Stay.” He whispered.

Before she could respond, the moment was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of dwarves stomping through the forest. They weren’t known for their stealth.

Dwalin was followed closely by Balin. “What happened!” He demanded, coming to a halt a few steps away. 

“She chased down a fleeing orc, I followed.” Thorin explained his hand still on her side. “That one got the jump on me but Frin dealt with it but it gave her a good gash.” He nodded down towards his hand. 

The pain returned to the forefront of her mind as Balin knelt beside Thorin and looked over her wound. “You have a nasty one there Lass.” His calm tenor eased the worry which had been gradually building. “We need to dress it but not here. I have some things in the wagon, where it is cleaner.” He was speaking to Thorin. “Can you walk?” Balin turned back to her.

“I can try.” Frin replied, then started to try to get up.

“Don’t be foolish.” Thorin spoke sternly, before easily lifting her into his arms. Frin was both surprised and thankful but the movement instantly caused burning pain to engulf her.

Immediately, a strong hand covered her wound. “It’s bleeding pretty badly.” Dwalin spoke gruffly. “Hold that there.” He took Frin’s hand and placed it on her side, where she realized he had placed a piece of cloth. 

While holding one hand on her side and the other around Thorin’s neck, they all started back towards the wagon. Frin’s mind was a muddle of pain and contemplation. The blissful moment when Thorin had kissed her felt like a fevered dream the moment it ended. 

The feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her tight to his chest, was comforting. Glancing up at him, she saw a look of determination on his face. In that moment she knew what she wanted. She didn’t have the strength to leave him.

“Thorin,” she whispered, hoping the others who were a few steps ahead wouldn’t hear. “Slow down a little.” 

He looked down at her confused but slowed his pace. 

“I don’t want to be married.” She looked up at his face. He furrowed his brow in continued confusion. “I do not wish to be tied to a husband and the duties that may come with him. I want to be free.”

He turned his face back to the forest, but Frin could see stoic hardness cover it. “You can be whatever you wish.” He replied evenly.

“I don’t think you understand what I am saying.” Frin smirked slightly, lowering her voice further.

“Then speak plainly.” Thorin’s familiar tone of anger filled her ears. 

Nervously, Frin glanced up towards Balin and Dwalin but they seemed engrossed in their own conversation. “Thorin,” she kept her voice soft. “I am telling you, my honor belongs to me and me alone. I have no responsibility to a future husband. I may give it freely to whom I choose.”

Instantly, his face changed. The anger and confusion which had filled it was replaced by surprise. The warmth in his eyes met hers. 

As he opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by Balin’s voice calling to them “You coming Thorin. We need to get that wound bandaged.”

Thorin gave a sharp nod and proceed to adjust Frin in his arms. The movement caused another intense wave of pain to sweep over her causing her head to lean into his chest. 

A few moments later, Frin was being lowered onto the wagon. Behind the male dwarves, she could hear Dova asking about her. 

“I’m fine.” Frin called out to Dova but another stabbing sensation caused her attention to shift. “If you want to stab me more, at least make it deadly.” She hissed at whoever was prodding her wound behind her. 

“Stay still Lass.” Dwalin grunted.

She laid on her side for a while Balin cleaned the wound. Thorin knelt before her, watching the others work. 

“Dova,” Balin called. “Put this in the fire.”

Frin was instantly confused, unable to see what was going on behind her. Her eyes immediately stared at Thorin, hoping he would provide her answers. 

“They need to seal the wound.” Thorin spoke softly to her. 

“With what!?” Her voice sounded aggressive in her own ears. 

“A hot blade.” Thorin leaned forward so he was only a breath away from her. “It will hurt more than the sword itself but you will live. 

Frin realized how much pain she was about to enure. A speck of fear started to grow in her mind. Without giving it much thought, Frin reached out and grabbed Thorin’s hand, gripping it tightly. The world had become a blur, slightly out of focus but the strong hand gripped her making her feel secure. 

After a few moments of silence past, she heard the now familiar footfalls of Dova. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the glowing red blade of Balin’s dagger. Desperately she glanced over at Thorin, who gave her a reassuring nod. 

The first thing Frin noticed was the smell. The horrific smell of skin burning. When the realization that it was her skin burning entered her mind, the incredible pain came with it. The yell was involuntary, so were the tears. In her ear she could hear Balin speaking but couldn’t understand the words. She didn’t know when she’d done it but both hands were now clutching Thorin. Desperation to flee from the pain filled her mind. Her eyes went blind, filled with pain, then the pain was gone. There was only darkness.


	5. Hurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injured in battle, Frin enures the journey back to Erebor.

Frin’s eyes slowly opened, revealing the canvas above her head. She was painfully aware of the cart rocking beneath her as it caused a constant stream of painful twinges. The throbbing in her head didn’t help either. Every part of her ached. Everything was too much, the sound of horses, the wheels, the movement, laying on her back. 

“You’re awake.” Thorin’s tenor was a gentle sound bringing her focus into a sort of clarity. Frin gave a careful nod, trying not to agitate her head. “We’ll be home in a few days.”

“Good.” She said softly, testing her voice. She tried to look at him through squinted eyes.

“Here.” He handed her some water, which she drank eagerly. “Balin,” he called over his shoulder. The loudness of his voice instantly caused the pressure in her head to increase.

Frin didn’t need to look to know Balin awkwardly clambered from the driver’s seat into the back of the wagon. She could hear his grunts and the creaking of wood while he moved. 

Everyone was quiet as Balin pulled her tunic up to examine her side. After a moment he lowered the fabric and placed a hand on her head. His face betrayed him.

“I’m not healing well.” Frin stated. 

His reaction came as a small sigh. “Lass, your side, it’s not looking good and you have a fever.”

“Right.” She knew enough to know it wasn’t good. Her mother knew elvish medicine which could help but they were still days away from the mountain. 

“We’ll get you home.” Thorin’s voice was firm. “You’ll be fine.” It seemed he was talking more to Balin than her. She was thankful for his confidence even if it was forced. “Push them.” He demanded. His tone was urgent.

Balin gave a curt nod and climbed back to the front of the wagon without argument. Dova turned from where she was sitting on the very back of the wagon and offered a reassuring smile. Despite the confidence surrounding her, Frin found herself falling into despair. 

She just figured out what she wanted and now she would die before getting any of it. Her eyes drifted to Thorin. He wasn’t looking at her but observed Balin and Dwalin while they encouraged the ponies to quicken their pace. At least he knew that was some reassurance. Slowly, her thoughts were interrupted by the increasing pain in both her head and side. The now quickly moving wagon was better for her survival but not her comfort. 

The wagon pitched from side to side. The creaking wheel emboldened their cries. The cloth above her head gave a steady result which just added to the cacophony of sounds. The road wasn’t smooth either. Every few minutes the wagon would jolt over the uneven ground causing an immense amount of pain.

Frin let out an involuntary hiss and Thorin’s hand instantly grabbed her’s. His face came down towards her. “I will not lose you now.” His voice was but a whisper, laced with a promise. His words settled into her mind but the pain was immense. The world was spinning, then darkness came and the pain faded for another moment.

When Frin opened her eyes again, the pain was worse. With a groan she closed them, willing the pain away. In her head she could feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat. Instantly, she felt dizzy and thirsty. Unaware of her own voice, she tried to ask for water but no sound reached her ears. She only knew her pleas had been answered when the cooling sensation of water touched her lips. She drank greedily. The relief of the refreshing liquid brought a temporary comfort causing her to fall asleep once more.

To her, a few minutes later she was aroused by the sound of arguing around her. “Why can’t we go faster?” 

“Lad, the cart is slowing us down.”

“You could take one of the ponies.”

“Will that not reopen the wound?”

“The wound opening won’t be fatal, the fever is.”

“How long would it take on a pony?”

“With both of you...riding hard, tomorrow morning.”

“If not.”

“Two days.”

“Get me a pony.”

Frin felt herself being lifted up, then held against a firm body. Underneath her something moved. The wind hit her face and an arm held her tightly. The movement was endless. The pain continued. In the midst of her daze and confusion, she knew one thing. Death was close and a part of her welcomed the end. 


	6. For Now

Elaborate silver banners hung on the green stone walls. Lanterns lingered at the end of ornate chains casting light into a familiar emerald room. Under Frin’s head was a soft fabric, which also covered her entire body. Somehow she was home. 

Pulling herself out of bed, the first thing she noticed was the intense soreness. Every muscle in her body quietly protested at the movement. Her bare feet hit the floor, greeted by the familiar chill of the mountain. It was a small reassuring comfort. Pulling herself into a standing position, Frin realised she didn’t have any pain. Hesitantly, she pulled up the fine silk tunic she wore to take a peek at her ribs. 

There was a long, gnarled scab extending behind her. Carefully she ran her fingers over the spot and was surprised it wasn’t sore to touch. Mildly confused and simultaneously thankful she elected to dress and start the day.

In the corner sat a large chest filled with all of her garments. As she rummaged through she began to adorn herself with a simple silk tunic and riding trousers. After fully clothing herself and fastening her leather boots, she pulled out a long sliver robe and draped it over her shoulders. The robe was long enough to drag behind her but was still easy to move. Frin enjoyed it. It made her feel powerful, elegant and connected her to her elvish heritage.

Exiting her chambers, she entered a small hallway and descended the steps to the family drawing room. There sitting in their usual spots where her parents, who instantly stood when she entered.

“My dear,” her mother approached. “I am glad you are awake.” She gave her a soft hug and led her to an armchair near the fireplace.

“Frin,” her father voice called from across the room. “You’re awake so if you feel ready you will need to go to the King today.”

“What?” Frin exclaimed, confused. “Sorry Father, I’m confused. How long have I been asleep?”

“A few days.” Her mother answered.

“And what time is it?” 

“It is just after sunrise.” Da smiled.

“Right.” Frin took a moment to pause. Her memories of the previous days were limited but she gathered Thorin had gotten her to her mother. “Why do I need to go to the King today?”

“That my dear is uncertain,” her father stood to his feet. “The King asked to see you when you are recovered.” He crossed the room and grabbed a plate full of bread and cheese. “Eat, then we will go.”

“My love,” her mother’s voice was firmer than usual. “She is only just awake, perhaps wait one more day.”

“If the King…” He went to respond but Frin interrupted.

“It’s alright, I am well.” Frin smiled, taking a bite of bread. 

“Good,” her father clapped his hands together. “I'll be in my study. When you are ready my dear come and fetch me.”

Frin gave him a smile before diving into the food in front of her. It wasn’t until the first bit hit her stomach did she realize how hungry she was. A few pieces of bread, cheese and some fruit her mother brought her later, Frin rose from her chair. The morning was growing late and they needed to visit the King. 

Her father’s study was small but the walls were lined with parchment, a lone raven sat on his perch watching as he wrote. Sitting at the large stone desk was her father, clearly writing some letter to be sent to a distant land. Frin waited until he was finished, tied the message on the bird and stood. 

Silently, he took the creature onto his forearm, then nodded for Frin to follow. Out of their home they walked onto the crowded street. People were heading to the market and the forges. Frin found an unusual beauty in the activity. Following her father closing, they moved through the crowd, who parted slightly for them. Once the distant light of the mountain’s entrance came into view, he whispered to the raven, who urgently took off in the direction of the light.

Right,” he smiled over his shoulder to Frin who stood closely behind him. “Let’s go see the King.” As he moved towards the throne room and it’s adjoining antichamber, he continued to speak. “Frin you will be going in with everyone who is to see the King today. So, you’ll have to wait.”

Frin nodded her understanding.

“Whatever the King wants, I trust you to do the right thing for yourself and our family.” His voice was more hushed, not wanting to be overheard. 

“Of course Father,” Frin frowned slightly at him unsure of his apparent uneasiness.

He gave a satisfied nod. A few moments later they entered the antichamber, which was filled. Like before there were many dwarf lords but in addition merchants, farmers and blacksmiths all waited. The room was quite grand but the number of people present made it feel inadequately small. 

“Go to the guard by the door,” her father pointed toward the entrance of the throne room. “Tell him why you’re here.” Frin nodded, starting towards the door. “Tell him the King asked for you.” He spoke as she moved away.

Weaving through the crowd was difficult, but eventually she approached the stern looking dwarf who was standing by the doorway. He wore the full ceremonial armour of gold and bronze. In his hands was a large parchment.

“Excuse me sir,” Frin spoke poliently to the dwarf, who looked directly at her when she started talking. “I was told I need to speak with you before seeing the King.”

“That it is correct.” The dwarf glanced down at the parchment. “Name?” 

“Frin, daughter of Farin.” She answered. 

“Purpose.”

“The King asked for me.” The confidence was clear in her voice.

The guard gave her a look of surprise before composing himself. “Alright, you will be in the first group. Just wait here.” He gestured beside him. “I’ll make sure you are in first.”

“Thank you.” Frin offered him a smile.

She only just moved to the side when another guard entered the room and called for the first group to gather. The guard Frin had spoken with guided her in front of everyone else. Promptly, they were guided into the throne room.

It was the same as when Frin had last seen it. Amber light illuminated the room from the ground up. The long walkway led to where the King sat on his throne. Above his head the Arkenstone shone, giving ofzf every color. To the right of the King was Thrain and on the left was Thorin. 

When they were halfway towards the perfectly carved steps she saw Thorin notice her. His shoulders relaxed and a small smile formed. Frin couldn’t help but smile at him. In an instant, Frin’s memory of his kiss and her offer entered her mind. Realizing they hadn’t spoken since that moment caused a sudden way of nerves to wash over her.

The guard directly in front of her stopped. Frin followed the dwarf’s lead and waited patiently behind him. The guard bowed deeply towards the King before moving just to the side. Thror gazed down at her expectantly.

Frin took a step forward, understanding it was her turn before him, into the space the guard had previously occupied. She gave a bow similar to the one she’d given on her first visit. 

“Frin, daughter of Farin.” The guard announced to the room.

“It is good to see you up and moving.” Thror smiled at her. “I believe I am indebted to you for saving my grandson, putting yourself into harm's way to do so.”

“Your majesty,” Frin bowed her head, then glanced at Thorin. “I was only doing my duty.”

“Yes, your duty and yet I hear great tales of your skill and dedication in protecting my family.” He brought his hand to his face in apparent contemplation. “You have proven yourself highly capable and I will grant you this as a reward for your deeds. From this day forward, I charge you with the protection of my grandson, Prince Thorin.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” She bowed deeply. 

“You will answer to him, protect him.” The last two words were a command. 

“Frin, daughter of the mountain take your place.” The King gestured towards Thorin.

Frin bowed once more and started moving. Panicked, she tried to remember the proper position. As she moved to stand just to the left of Thorin but behind him, Frin glanced at his face. She hoped he would give her some guidance. When they locked eyes Thorin gave the slightest nod, seeing where she was going. 

For the rest of the day, she stood watching as numerous citizens of Erebor brought their disagreements to the King. Half way through the last group the King, Thror, excused himself, leaving Thrain to finish the day’s work. By the time the last person was escorted out of the Throne room Frin was feeling exhausted. It was clear she wasn’t fully recovered from her ordeal.

“You all can leave.” Thrain spoke to the guards around the room.

Frin was unsure if he wanted her to leave too but Thorin turned back towards her. “No you, stay.” He murmured. She was thankful he’d realized her predicament and provided some sort of guidance. 

Thrain turned and approached his son. “Thorin, a long day done.” He smiled, clasping him on the shoulders. “Do you remember what I showed you?” 

Thorin nodded. Frin couldn’t see his face from where she stood causing her natural curiosity to grow. It was obvious the two of them shared a close bond. There was a familiarity she recognized from her own relationship with her father. 

“Well, I will take my leave.” Thrain smiled at his son once more. Then a strange thing happened which would forever be ingrained in Frin’s mind. As Thrain moved toward the passage to her left he smiled at her, then gave a small bow of the head. Frin immediately bowed to him as he walked but was profoundly perplexed by the brief acknowledgement. 

“How are you?” Thorin was on her the moment his father disappeared from the room. Both his hands clasped her arms. “Are you in pain? I’m sorry I didn’t know he would make you stand all day.”

Frin gave a soft chuckle. “I am fine, tired but alright.”

Thorin stared at her face, studying her answer for a moment. “Come with me.” His voice was suddenly gruff, deeper than normal. His hand wrapped around her’s leading her down the same passage Thrain took. They walked until they hit a corner, the passage continued to the left but Thorin stopped. He was looking at the wall ahead of him. 

Unable to see past his broad shoulders, Frin moved to see past him. Before her was a beautiful carving in the stone. The throne of the King sat empty with the Arkenstone shining above it. Below the throne, knelt a cloaked figure. Frin found herself marveling at the detail in the robe. It was an incredible carving but she found herself unsure.

Just as she was about to ask Thorin why they were there, he reached up and pressed the image of the Arkenstone. To Frin’s surprise the jewel moved into the wall, showing an indent where it previously was. Letting go of her hand, Thorin pushed against the door which swung open to him. 

Without looking, he took hold of her hand once more and led her into the room. The torches were already lit and a small fireplace provided the room with warmth. In the centre of the room was a grand bed, covered in furs and fine linens. 

“Thorin?” Frin whispered. Her nerves had returned, accompanied by a warm sensation in her abdomen. 

“This is for my personal use. It’s not my chambers but it’s warm and comfortable.” He turned towards her, placing a hand on her cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. 

“You almost did.” Frin whispered back to him. “You brought me back to my mother.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Without thinking she wrapped her arms around his torso. He instantly embraced her. Strong arms held her tightly. They had a warm embrace for a few minutes before Frin decided to speak. “I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward situation when I spoke of my honor. I didn’t intend to but I wanted you to know the truth.”

Thorin pulled her away from him, blue eyes bore into hers. “Do not apologize for honesty.” Then, pulling her close, Thorin pressed his lips to hers.

Melting at the sweet sensation, Frin leaded into him. Her nerves melted away. Carefully their lips danced over each other, feeling, memorizing. She felt as though she could stay like that forever. Eventually, they both pulled back, needing some air. 

Thorin peered at her through hooded eyes. “Frin.” He said her name carefully. “If you wish to go no further tell me now.”

She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Her mouth felt dry as the realization became clear in her mind. Most women experienced this on their wedding night. If those women could do it so could she. Yet, she had a choice, no duty, no responsibility to her husband. 

Standing before her was a dwarf lord she respected and if she was truly honest with herself, loved. He nervously shifted his weight, waiting for her answer. Silently, she asked herself what she wanted. It was an instant reply, this. She wanted this.

Hesitantly, she reached for the heavy outer robes he was wearing. Pressing her hands flat against his clothed chest, she eased her hands towards his shoulders, pushing off the layer. She glanced up at his face as the fabric hit the floor. His eyes were closed.

Frin feeling suddenly emboldened, took a step away from. His eyes opened searching for her. Just as his eyes met hers, Frin shrugged off her elegant silver robes, letting them fall into a pile at her feet. She saw a hunger flash into his eyes, while she slowly untied the straps of her trousers, then her boots. When the boots were off, bare feet on the stone floor, and the fabric which once covered her legs were added to the pile of cloth, she stepped back towards him. Adorned with nothing but her tunic, she could clearly see the desire written on Thorin’s face. 

“Do you really think I would leave?” She whispered to him. Slowly she pulled his tunic over his head. His torso was muscular, with sparse dark hairs on his chest. Unable to help herself she ran her fingers over the curves of his revealed skin eliciting a small groan. 

“You are infuriating.” He growled at her before grabbing her face, then kissing her. Unlike their previous kiss, this was desperate. Thorin attacked her lips. His passion caused her to press herself against him. A moan rumbled in the back of her throat. The warmth which once was a small flame, was now burning brightly in her core. Through the limited clothing which separated them, she could feel his desire. 

Thorin pulled his mouth away from her, panting. Hastily, his strong hands pulled her tunic over her head, leaving her completely bare. Frin didn’t have time to be conscious of her nakedness because Thorin’s mouth was once again on hers. At the same time he led her towards the bed. She felt the back of her legs hit the soft surface causing her to fall into the comfortable furs. 

To her surprise, Thorin was no longer near. Through cracked eyelids she saw him swiftly remove his boots and trousers, revealing himself fully to her. Frin couldn’t help but stare. It was her first time seeing him. She was overcome by him. He was perfect. 

“Beautiful.” Thorin’s voice was like velvet, bringing her back out of her own thoughts. Immediately after speaking Thorin crawled on to the bed, laying on his side next to her. “What do you know of this?” He asked in a low tone. 

“Very little.” She turned her head to face him. “Will you show me?”

Thorin gave a soft smile before leaning in again. When his lips touched hers, she was surprised by the care and softness of them. With their lips locked together, Frin became aware of his hand grazing her body.

His fingers started in her hair, then delicately traced her ear. Gradually, he traced lazy circles down her neck towards her chest. Each tender touch caused a pleasurable sensation to shiver through her body. Once he reached her chest, he caressed her breast eliciting a series of moans out of her.   
Each time an involuntary sound came out of her, she parted her lips slightly. Thorin would respond with his own small groan. His lips feverishly moved against hers followed by his hand moving ever southward. When his hand brushed over her most intimate parts, the sensations became too much.

“Thorin.” His name was a plea on her tongue full of desperation. Frin’s mind was such a muddle of sensation, words were unattainable. Thankfully, Thorin seemed to understand her. His hand moved confidently, no longer just tickling her skin but pressed firmly against her. His fingers explored between her thighs. 

Frin pulled her lips away from his, throwing her head back as she arched against his hand. Still lost in all the sensation she suddenly felt a single digit slip inside of her. With eyes wide open, she saw Thorin intently watching her face. Just as surprise subsided, a second finger joined the first. Frin felt filled in a strange foreign way that was completely pleasurable. 

For a few moments, she leaned her head against his chest, mewing quietly. She knew this kind of relationship was pleasurable but she didn't know how pleasurable. It was an intoxicating feeling which kept building deep within her. 

She felt Thorin shift his body so he was now hovering over her, one leg in between her thighs. His hand continued moving inside her.

“May I.” He asked after a moment while withdrawing his hand. It’s absence left Frin with a sense of emptiness. Once again Frin found her nerves, glancing down at him. She gave a hesitant nod, unsure how she was supposed to fit him within her. 

“This may hurt.” He whispered, placing a chasied kiss on her mouth. Gently, he lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips. Frin could not take her eyes off him, his muscular chest, hair cascading over his shoulders. 

Once he settled, she could feel him pushing up against her. Slowly, he pushed into her. As he moved, Frin found herself growing increasingly full and uncomfortable. Then, very suddenly there was a sharp pain. Frin squeezed her eyes closed and grabbed a hold of Thorin. In response to her pain, he stilled. 

“Tell me when you’re ready.” He leaned closer, peppering her neck and chest with light kisses. 

The pain slowly subsided, allowing Frin to relish in the feel of him. Placing a hand on his face, she brought his head up, bringing his attention to her face. She gave him a small nod, then kissed him deeply.

When he started to move, his kiss became more passionate. He moved in a steady rhythm. As he continued to thrust into her, any discomfort she may have felt melted away. After kissing her, Thorin propped himself onto one elbow. The opposite hand reached in between them. He started to caress her, causing her to be momentarily confused. When the steady heat started to build within her, she found herself no longer confused. Once more she found herself completely lost in the pleasure. 

Faintly, she could hear Thorin’s moans, echoed by her own. Inside her she could feel something building. She found herself desperate to reach the peak of whatever was happening to her. Thorin’s pace started to falter and become erratic but to Frin it was a distant reality. 

Out of nowhere something inside her burst. He back arched. Desperately she grabbed the dwarf above her. Tremors washed over her as the pinnacle of her pleasure was reached. Thorin tucked his head into her shoulder, releasing a long moan. She felt him empty himself into her just as she was coming down from her high.

Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled them so she rested against his side, while he laid on his back. Frin could feel his chest heaving, mimicking her own. They laid in silence while their breathing returned to normal and the fire crackled.

Finally, Frin could not hold it in anymore. “Thank you.” She whispered into his chest.

Thorin chuckled beside her. “No, thank you.” He brushed some of her hair out of her face. “How am I supposed to look at you and not want you constantly.” She didn’t need to look. The smile was clear in his voice. 

“You have patience.” She smiled.

“Ah,” he replied. “Not one of my best qualities.”

Frin giggled softly. In the silence of the room, they stayed for a while. The more comfortable she got, the more aware she was of her situation. She couldn’t stay despite how badly she wanted to. Eventually giving into her own reason, Frin pulled herself out of bed and began to dress herself. 

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked.

“Home.” Frin smiled. “I cannot stay here with you all evening and all night. What would people say?”

Thorin nodded, proceeding to stand, gathering his own clothes. She was grateful he understood. “Tomorrow, meet me at the barracks. I have some things to discuss with Balin before heading to court. It will be more of the same I’m afraid but I believe my father will be overseeing all the disputes.”

“Of course.” Fully dressed, robes draped over her shoulder, hair in place, Frin moved towards the door. 

“Frin.” Thorin called to her.

‘No armour,” his voice was stern. “Not for at least a week, until you’re healed.”

Frin, mildly frustrated by the underlying command, nodded. She knew why he’d said it but still resented him for telling her what to do. “See you in the morning.” 

Carefully, she pulled open the door, revealing the empty passage. After closing the door behind her, she made her way back to the throne room, which was completely empty. Exiting the way she had entered, Frin made her way home.


	7. Days & Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frin finds herself growing confortable with her new relationship with Thorin.

The following day Frin heeded Thorin’s words and refrained from wearing her usual armour. However, she did refuse to be unarmed. Hidden daggers, tucked into the back of her breaches, remained unseen by most under the formal flowing robes. It wasn’t until Thorin removed her robes hastily that evening did he become aware of how well protected she was. 

That night’s activities were more aggressive than the night before. The sight of her daggers had caused a surprising amount of aggression in the pair. Frin nipped at his neck and arms, while Thorin thrust aggressively into her. That evening she went home sore but pleased with the entire encounter. Smiling to herself she wondered if the following day would yield more of the same.

Over the following weeks, they fell into a rhythm, monotonous days and sensual nights. In public, Frin was one of Thorin’s inner circle. Her new found status meant she was more recognizable, causing her to become aware of her own mannerisms and appearance. After the first week of her new duties, she became officially known as Frin, daughter of the mountain. Even though she was now privy to Thorin’s thoughts she still spent most of her time standing watch over the dull proceedings of the royal court. She found it reassuring. She’d always felt more comfortable around dwarves and the recognition in her title and position was reassuring. Erebor was becoming a part of her, her home, more than it had ever been in the past.

A few weeks after her formal audience with the King, Frin and Thorin were walking through the mostly empty streets of Erebor. The sun outside had long since set. The winter winds brought a slight crispness to the air in the mountain. The only sound to be heard was the continuous beat of the forges bouncing off the mountain’s walls, metallic tings and deep bellows. 

It didn’t take long for Frin to notice, Thorin enjoyed moving through the mountain when everyone else was asleep. She never asked him, but it seemed he could just be himself, a dwarf wandering the mountain at night with no duty or responsibility. When they wandered together within the mountain, the tension would leave his face, his body relaxed. It was in those moments she was able to see the tenderness in him. It was never surprising but always welcome.

Beside her Thorin hummed quietly to himself. His deep baritone was just a rumble in his chest. Occasionally, when they would come close to the mountains rough stone the deep vibrations would echo slightly around him. He would make a great bard in a different life.

“Have you ever been in the treasure hall?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence. She could hear the smile in his voice. There was a slight tone of mischief placed within the pleasant question. 

“No my Lord.” Frin spoke formally, knowing they were still in a very public place. Unlike Thorin she never relaxed in the public spaces no matter what time it was. Her reputation and her family’s honor were always at stake. 

“Would you like to see the wealth of Erebor?” Thorin teased. He knew she wanted to see it, but his question was pushing her to openly show her interest. 

“I do not need to see our people’s wealth to know that it’s there, my lord.” She responded with a smirk. “Yet I do find myself curious.” She relented.

“Follow me.” He smiled at her before taking off at a brisk walk. Not far from the entrance to the royal quarter he ducked into a tight corridor. He led her through a maze of corridors and passageways. Each corner was an intersection with four options. Frin realized it would be easy for someone to get lost. She was amused by the simple and intelligent way to secure the wealth of the mountain. As they rounded one corner, the unmistakable light filled the distant doorway, outlining Thorin’s dark silhouette. 

When they emerged into the vast hall, Frin found herself completely overwhelmed. In front of her were endless piles of gold, silver, gems. An unmistakable golden light filled the vast halls. There were statues and art all made out of the finest materials. Everything was immaculately organised.

“What do you think?” Thorin asked her. 

“How is this even possible?” Frin asked in awe. Thorin didn’t answer. She supposed he wasn’t sure either. Much of it, she reasoned, came from the mountain itself. Some were probably traded, gold from men and elves in exchange for gems. 

In the quiet of the room, she felt Thorin’s hand hold hers. It was strange and intimate, standing over an immense amount of gold. She couldn’t help but wonder at the true value of it all. What would people sacrifice for all of it or even just a portion? Deep in the pits of her being she worried. Kings had done some terrible things for far less. It was amazing. 

She turned her body in towards him, when a noise came from across the chamber. At first she wasn’t sure what she heard. It was like a moan or a murmur. It sounded strange. The interruption to the silence caused both of their hands to fall to their sides and Frin to take her usual place behind the prince. A moment of stillness passed as the both glanced around the room. Eventually a figure in a grand furred robe came into view through the immense piles of gold.

The King stood among the wealth completely unaware of them. His hands caressed coins and gems, turning each over in his hands. Frin had seen the look before on the faces of mothers holding their children. It was a fierce kind of love, of adoration. She felt suddenly disturbed, and frightened. She wondered often did Thror come down and stew in the gold?

Glancing over at Thorin, she saw a look she didn’t recognize. His brow was drawn in a harsh line. Blue eyes were locked onto his grandfather. As soon as she was able to register the expression of his face he turned quickly towards her. With a slight turn of the head, he silently asked her to leave with him. She followed obediently, her mind still on the King.

Back through the winding path she followed, the worry growing in her mind. “Why is he?” She found herself unable to find the words. A heavy sigh from beside her followed her awkward question. 

“I didn’t know he’d be there.” Thorin’s voice was heavy. “I should’ve known. He’s sick.”

“How?”

“There is something poisoning my grandfather’s mind. The gold is all he thinks about, cares about.” 

“Has he always been like that?”

“I do not know. My father says he was different before the wealth of Erebor became so great, before the Arkenstone. I have only seen him as he is.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Frin couldn’t help but voice her concerns.

“No.” His voice wavered. 

Frin grabbed his hand, stopping their movement through the small passage. “Thorin.” She whispered, taking a step closer to him. “What are you hiding?” Looking for an answer she searched his face. 

His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes. “People talk.” His head fell. The facade of indifference fell. The worry and fear was clear.

“Thorin what do they say?” Frin pried him. 

“They say it runs in our family. We’re cursed.” He didn’t look up at her. Frin stood staring at him in shock. He’d never been so timid, afraid. Most of the time he was confident, surefooted, to see him in his fear greatly concerned her.

Carefully she reached her spare hand up to his face. “Do you believe them?” He turned his head slightly but was silent. After a moment passed, she spoke again. “I do not.” The hand on his face lifted his chin. Blue eyes met hers. “You are many things Thorin...son of Thrain...son Thror...future King under the Mountain.” She spoke the titles deliberately, slowly. “You are brave and devoted to your people. I have never seen you care for gold or desire power. You’ve only ever done your duty to these halls, our people and me. No matter what sickness has a hold on your grandfather, know one thing, Thorin you are not your grandfather. You are not Thror.” 

As she spoke she saw the fear start to leave his face. In its place the Thorin she knew, full of determination, peered at her. 

“You are Thorin, and your story is not yet written. Do not resign yourself to an ending that remains unseen.” Frin smiled at him, seeing a smirk spread on his face.

“Thank you.” He bowed his head slightly.

“Well, I am duty bound to protect you body and mind.” The sarcastic tone dripped from her lips. 

He gave a hearty laugh. They both knew she wasn’t bound to him in duty but in choice. A bit more jovial Thorin continued down the path leading them both to a more familiar passage. The now familiar engraving lingered in front of them. 

Thorin looked over his shoulder. “Will you lay with me?” The softness of his voice was intoxicating. She wondered why he would even ask, when he knew the answer. Frin offered a simple nod as an answer.

Once they were both through the familiar door, which shut behind them. Frin found her back immediately pressed back against the stone wall. His lips were feverishly moving against hers. His hands ran through her hair, cupping the back of her neck. 

There was a tender desperation to his touches, something that hadn’t been there before. Frin tried to calm her mind and enjoy the moment, his touch. To her frustration, she found herself dwelling on what she had seen. It was obvious he was still troubled by his grandfather’s sickness. In truth it troubled her as well.

Wanting to give Thorin some form of comfort or distraction, she pressed against him, willing herself to return to the moment. With practiced hands, she pulled him free of his many layers. With her lips pressed against his, she guided them toward the plush bed. Gently she pushed him onto the soft fabric.

She stood still completely clothed in front of him. Deliberately, Frin allowed her fingers to trace the edges of her robes, gradually removing each layer. She watched as his eyes followed the moment of her hands. Every time a layer would fall away, his chest would heave with a sharp inhale. With her eyes locked onto his, she allowed herself to speak.

“I am here with you, my Prince.” Her voice was low in her throat as the words glided off her tongue. 

Thorin’s mouth opened slightly at her words. His eyes followed the movement of her hands, removing her final garments. The desire building in him was plain to see as he laid, propped on his elbows, bare, watching her. 

When the last piece of fabric hit the stone floor, she approached. Each step was careful, meant to make her lover wait. “Tell me, will I be here when I am to call you my King?” It was a hopeful statement which was lined with the promise of disappointment. 

Without hesitation, Thorin pulled her onto his lap. His desire was evident, hands moving across her bare back. Desperate to feel close to him, Frin guided them together. The immediate feeling of connection, caused a moan to escape her lips. Thorin’s head dipped, nestling itself in the valley of her chest. She could feel the small groan which escaped him rumble through her. 

Hesitantly, she started to move against him, testing the movements. The new position made everything feel new once again, like it was the first time. The way he hugged her made her feel closer to him than ever before, skin to skin, soul to soul. 

“You will always be a part of me.” His words were a whisper, a desperate plea, a promise. His eyes found hers, filled with tenderness. She believed him. 

Rolling her hips, she felt a tremendous amount to pleasure soar through her. From behind closed eyes, blinded by her own pleasure, cool air tickling her chest, she rode out the waves of her pleasure. When her senses returned, she glanced down at the dwarf between her thighs. 

Laying against the bed with his hips arched towards hers, Thorin looked completely disheveled. His hair was completely splayed across the bed. She could feel his hand gripping her thighs tightly. With each roll of her hips, his body tightened more. Small groans of desperation escaped his lips.

Encouraged by the pleasure she was causing, Frin continued her movements. Matching her rhythm, Thorin thrust himself upward. It didn’t take long for him to reach his peak. When his body finally stilled, Frin leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. 

Rolling herself off of him, she cuddled into his side to rest for a moment. She enjoyed these moments as they rested. Together they would lay in silence, a little sweaty on the verge of sleep. She knew it was only temporary. Despite all her hopes, when he inevitably became King she wouldn’t be at his side. There would be someone else, but until then she would stay with him for as long as she could. 

“Thranduil is coming tomorrow.” Thorin spoke, interrupting her thoughts. 

“Oh?” Frin was instantly curious. “Why?”

“A while ago, he entrusted some of his family's jewels to us for safekeeping and to be mended. They were damaged in a battle so we fixed them.” There was a tone in his voice, which made her uneasy.

“Why are you worried?” She pressed him.

“Do you remember the envoy who came a few weeks ago?”

“No.”

“It was probably when you were injured.” He propped himself up against the back of the bed. Frin moved with him but kept her head on his chest. His hand started to caress her back, moving in absentminded circles as he continued to speak. “An envoy came and requested the return of the white gems. My grandfather said he wouldn’t give them over to anyone other than Thranduil himself. He insisted they were too valuable to be handed over to just any elf.” 

“It’s understandable considering how valued they are but there is something that concerns you more.” She knew there was something unsaid. “Does it have to do with what I witnessed tonight?”

“Our relationship with the elves of Mirkwood has always been tenuous.” Thorin’s tone was unsteady, showing his concern. “I do not think my grandfather will give up the gems as promised.” He paused for a while as the statement sunk in. 

Frin found herself suddenly anxious for her own place within the mountain. “Thranduil is not forgiving or understanding. Those gems could lead to war.” Sitting up to look at his face, she continued. “Where would that leave me? My family?” She found herself starting to panic. Would they be in danger? Would she have to leave Erebor?

“You would be safe and welcome here. Frin, daughter of the mountain, your home is here with your family. You have my word they will be protected here.” The sureness of his voice and the resolve clear in his eyes made the worry fade. “We will see what tomorrow brings.” He gazed down at her and placed his lips on her forehead. She let out a soft sigh, laying her head back on his chest.

They laid there for a short while until Frin pulled herself from his arms and dressed. “Shall I wait for you outside of your chambers in the morning?” Frin asked. 

“Yes.” He said from his position on the bed.

Frin nodded, finished placing her robes over her shoulders. Just before leaving the room, she looked back at him offering a kind smile. “Good night, Thorin,” she said before slipping out of the door, not waiting for his response.

Walking her usual path home, through the throne room, into the antichamber, then out into the thorofare. As usual, her journey home was quiet. The streets were empty except for the few tavern patrons, who stumbled drunkenly home. She moved silently, feeling the smooth stone beneath her feet. As the mountain’s entrance and the market grew distant, the metallic scent of the mountain touched her lungs. 

Erebor was home and would always be her home but a painful truth lingered in the future, just beyond her sight. Thorin would be married soon. Despite their time together, she saw the inevitable coming. Thror and Thrain had been pressuring Thorin while she was present to find a bride. She suspected the conversations were more forceful in private, their tones stern. 

She tried to remind herself to enjoy the present. The future would be dealt with then. It wasn’t worth worrying about now. An exasperated exhale left her body. Now she was tired and needed a bath.

Once she arrived at her family’s home she was comforted by the sight of her parents sitting side by side, hand in hand reading in the sitting room. It was a simple pleasant sight. Quietly, she slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a plate of food and politely asked Harriet, their one servant to help prepare a bath. While Harriet kindly moved the bath into her room, Frin waited for the hot water to come to a boil. 

Eventually, the bath had been prepared, various oils had been poured in, only awaiting Frin’s presence. As soon as she entered, the hot water stung her skin but was soon a welcome comfort. In the stillness of her room, she rested her head against the edge of the wooden tub. Closing her eyes, she felt sleep over take her. 

“Frin darling?” Her mother’s voice called her from her sleep. The warmth of the water still surrounding her, she saw her mother’s familiar figure standing in her doorway.

“Yes mother.” Frin gave a tired smile, then gestured towards a chair nearby. “Do you wish to speak to me?”

“You leave so early and come home so late,” she said as she sat. The elegant elvish robes draped around her. “I feel as though I never see you.”

“My apologies,” Frin frowned. “I'll make an effort to be home earlier but I cannot guarantee it.” She knew she’d been neglecting her parents, a pang of guilt filled her chest. “I do miss spending my evenings with you.”

“Where were you tonight?” Her mother asked, taking a seat beside her. The realization that her relaxation was going to be put off longer caused some frustration to well up inside of her.

“With Thorin.” Frin said plainly, wanting to cut the conversation short.

Her mother cocked a knowing eyebrow at her. Immediately, Frin realized her mistake. She was usually careful to refer to Thorin as the Prince but her tired, frustrated mind caused her to speak informally.

“I do not care to know the depth of your relationship with Prince Thorin.” Her mother was serious. The soft features of her face grew stern. “But, you need to know something which is specific to you.”

“You have already told me about the intricacies of marital relations.” Frin reminded her, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.

“Yes I have but there is something more. I neglected to tell you about the complicated nature of your birth.” 

Frin watched her mother intently.

“Your father and I tried and failed for one hundred years to conceive a child. Eventually we went to Rivendell. There some magic was used which led us to conceiving you.” She paused. “Due to these circumstances, I do not believe you will be able to conceive a child.” Her mother spoke kindly but plainly. 

“I cannot have a child.” Frin repeated allowing the words to sink in. 

“Over the past year I hoped to find a solution for you but I could not find one. I am sorry.” Her mother stood to leave.

“Mother.” Frin called to halt the elf’s movement. “You should know, I do not wish to have children, nor do I wish to be a wife. I am my own person.” She watched as her mother nodded her understanding. “Thank you for telling me.”

Her mother gave a small nod. “If I may, will you hear one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Be careful with your heart. Do not put it where it will break.” With her final words, her mother left the room. 

Frin couldn’t help but realize how late the statement was. She knew she’d already given her heart to Thorin. It would inevitably break. She could see it coming. The bards of Middle Earth often sang songs about love. They would say that if it was even for an instant it was worth it. Perhaps in the future she would feel the same. The moment with Thorin was enough and better than nothing at all. 

Eventually, when the water was cool. Frin climbed out the water and wrapped herself in a heavy fur robe. Not wanting to bother Harriet again, Frin elected to ignore the water and tub. Instead she fell onto her bed and passed out, exhausted from the day, and heart heavy from the night. 


	8. Two Worlds

The corridor outside of Thorin’s chamber was warmly lit, lined with a steady stream of torches. Golden flames danced against the stone’s emerald tone. A guard stood outside of each door along the long pathway, the royal quarter of Erebor. In between every chamber the walls were carved with intricate murals. Some of these images showed great battles, other’s grand alliances. 

Despite having been to this part of the mountain many times with Thorin, Frin still found herself standing in awe of the fine stone work around her. To her, these chambers and pieces of art showed the wealth of Erebor more than the gold in the halls below. This spoke to her of a rich history of bravery, loyalty and love. A history both hers and not. 

She stood back to Thorin’s door studying the mural in front of her. The carving portrayed a large battle. Men, elves and dwarves stood staring down their enemy, spears, swords and axes ready. Across for them charging across the field of battle an army of orcs and men, at their centre stood a heavily armoured figure. 

She’d stared at this mural before, it was the Last Alliance. Her lessons had taught her about Sauron and the people who defeated him. Durin’s folk were proud to count themselves among those who stood against the darkness. 

“Are you still staring at that?” Thorin teased approaching her back.

“Perhaps if the carving was simpler I would find less in it.” She smiled turning to face him. “My Lord, I am at your service.” She bowed her head, well aware of the guards around them. 

“Good,” Thorin turned to start towards the dining room as was his habit. “Come, I’m starving.”

Frin followed staying two paces back from him as was expected. The large dining hall was mostly empty when they arrived. Thorin’s brother, Frerin sat at the table alongside his sister, Dis, who Frin hadn’t seen since her return to the mountain. 

Dis had been newly wed when Frin had returned. Being of the royal line, she had been required to tour the dwarven kingdoms with her new husband. Di,s like her brothers was hot headed and stubborn, but Frin enjoyed her company as children. 

“Sister!” Thorin called as he approached. “When did you return?”

Dis stood from the table and approached her brother with a large smile. “Late in the night, it’s good to see you!” She exclaimed, gifting Thorin with a hug. 

During the interaction, Frin took her place against the wall and simply watched the reunion. Dis was different than she remembered. Her facial hair had come in quite dark, complimenting her warm skin and blue eyes. She seemed stronger than she had been. As a child she and Frin had been very similar in stature but now she had filled out. Her chestnut hair was braided into an intricate knot behind her head, with a few braids cascading around her ears. 

“Did you miss Erebor?” Thorin gave his sister a jab with his elbow as he sat down at the long table. 

“Of course,” Dis scoffed. “The dwarf kingdoms are beautiful but Erebor’s home.”

“Where is your husband this morning?” Frerin questioned, glancing around the room.

“Off to the mines.” Dis answered.

“Eager to impress.” Frerin stated. 

Dis nodded but continued to eat. 

“So sister,” Frerin leaned forward, lowering his voice but Frin could still hear. “You are now a woman.”

It took every ounce of control for Frin not to laugh at Dis’ reaction, who immediately dropped her food and choked. Beside his sister, Thorin chuckled.

“Frerin, it is not appropriate to discuss such things.” Frin didn’t need to see her face to know she wasn’t amused by the inappropriate question.

“You are so dull.” Frerin scoffed standing from his place at the table.

Dis groaned loudly at her older brother as he left. “I see nothing has changed.” She stated, also coming to her feet. 

“Yes, and no.” Thorin turned to his sister, twisting in his seat. 

From her position, Frin could see the cocked eyebrow Dis gave. 

“You are married,” Thorin observed. “And…” He trailed off, his tone playful.

“And?” Dis asked.

“And Frin has returned.” 

“What?” Dis exclaimed. “I must see her.” 

Still unnoticed, Frin grinned quietly to herself.

Thorin gave a hearty laugh and pointed to the spot where Frin stood. Following his gesture Dis turned. The look of surprise on her face was comical, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows pushing into her hairline. Once again, Frin found herself restraining her laughter.

“You both are having a good go at me!” Dis’ voice was a mixture of frustrated and amused. Approaching Frin, she continued. “My friend, welcome home.”

Frin gave a bow. “My lady Dis, welcome back to Erebor. We are all glad for your return.” When Frin straightened herself, she was greeted by a stern look. 

“Why so formal?”

Frin opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Thorin.

“Frin has been assigned as my personal guard, due to an incident on the road. She’s a highly skilled warrior.” Thorin now stood beside Dis. Leaning over to his sister, he whispered. “Perhaps meet her later.”

Dis let out an exhale of annoyance. “Very well.” Dis had always been annoyed by the rules of etiquette. Heavy footed, she left the room. 

Still standing at her post, Frin gave Thorin a small smile before reshaping her face into her regular stoic expression.

Thorin turned back to his plate with a soft chuckle. For a few moments, he ate in silence. “Frin, come.” He commanded, gesturing towards the place to his right. “The room is empty and I wish to have company.”

“My Lord.” She obeyed. 

“I see you are not wearing your usual armour.” Thorin observed not looking in her direction.

That morning Frin had elected to wear some of her more dwarven pieces. Her usual leather armour had been replaced by a golden chest plate, interactly carved in the dwarven style. Underneath she wore a square chainmail shirt, which draped down to her knees. Over her usual dark trousers, were dwarven boots, capped with carved metal. Knowing the elves were coming, she chose to align herself with her home.

“Yes my Lord,” She answered in a level tone. “I wished to represent our people well today.”

“Of course.” Having finished his meal, he turned towards her. “It’s probably heavier than you're used to.”

Frin nodded. 

“Still confident in your abilities?” He questioned with a cocked eyebrow.

“If required, I will gladly put my life before yours.” Frin answered restraining a sarcastic retort. 

With a satisfied smirk, Thorin stood. Frin followed as he led them down the long dining room table, past the numerous guards and into the wide corridor. In silence they continued to the Throne room, where Thrain was already waiting.

The members of the royal guards stood watch at the entrances, with the exception of the Captain who stood to the left of the dais, where the throne sat with the Arkenstone above. Frin took her place to the right back side, behind where Thorin usually stood. 

“Good you’re here.” Thrain greeted his son, as she took her place. “I need to speak with you.” Thrain spoke sternly.

“Father,” Thorin bowed his head slightly. 

“You need to take a wife.” 

Frin immediately felt her stomach sink as she quickly glanced toward Thorin. She hoped to hear his anger or immediate rejection of the statement.

“I have yet to meet anyone who pleases me and would please our people.” He stated plainly. She hung on every word even though she knew better.

Frin swore she saw Thrain glance in her direction before speaking. “The King and I agree, you need to take a wife and secure the future of our family. Since you have not chosen for yourself, we will find you a suitable match.” He placed a comforting hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “Do not worry. I know you well and only wish you happiness. She’ll be worthy of both you and Erebor.”

“Yes, Father.” Thorin bowed his head. A hint of resentment tainted his voice. 

“Good.” His father clapped him on the shoulder as the King, Thror entered the chamber.

Frin had never seen him so decorated. The King wore his crown as usually but his beard appeared to be armoured. Triangular strings of silver and gold spanned the width of his beard, then descended in a striped pattern to it’s tip. Golden armour could be seen peeking out from under his immaculate red robes and tunic. Over his shoulders he wore a patterned fur mantle with a cloak of black fur dragging behind him. 

King Thror had always intimidated her, but as he approached the throne he was more terrifying than ever. She didn’t know if it was her knowledge of his sickness, which lingered below the surface or the change to his usual wardrobe. Something about him felt volatile. Before he sat, the entire room bowed, only raising their heads once he had been seated. 

“Let’s begin.” His voice carried through the hall causing both Thorin and Thrain to take their place at his side. 

At the end of the long walkway a group of five elegant figures approached. At the front glided a figure in silver robes. Frin immediately recognized King Thranduil of the Woodland realm, his white hair unmistakable. At his heel followed flour elven guards. Each wore silver mantles over deep green robes. Their long, elegant swords gleamed in the torchlight. Unlike their king, they had darker hair, shades of brown and red. 

From her position behind the royal family, she saw Thorin nervously shift his weight. Thrain stood straight backed, while Thror seemed completely relaxed. It was impossible to tell if the King’s relaxed air was a good omen or an ill one. Frin’s hand instinctively rested on the hilt of her sword.

When Thranduil and his party came before the King, no one bowed. Frin stood in a state of shock having never seen such an occurrence. 

“Greetings, Thror, King Under the Mountain.” Thranduil’s voice beamed filling the room. “I have come to gather my people’s heirlooms, which you have so graciously mended and cared for.”

Thror did not reply but simply nodded towards the King before him. Out of the same passage where she had entered, Frin saw her father approach with a chest in his hands. He wore his usual garments but his face was sullen. As he passed by her, he gave her a look of weariness. 

Frin had a strong feeling, Thror was about to insult Thranduil, which wouldn’t end well. Though limited, Frin’s experience with Thranduil left a lasting impression of the elven king. He was strong willed and not easily swayed. If he made a decision there would be no changing it. She knew that if Thror offended Thranduil in any substantial way it would take generations to be able to change it. 

Her father, Farin, approached the elven King, who he knew well, with the ornate box in hand. Despite the fact that his back was to her, Frin suspected his face was giving Thranduil a warning, if what she suspected was true. 

“The White Gems of Lasgalen.” Thror spoke, while Farin opened the chest. 

Thranduil leaned, ever so slightly forward. Hungry eyes looked over the contents of the chest. Just as an elegant hand reached forward to touch the elven heirlooms, the lid closed with a loud slam. 

“I believe it is best for us to keep them in our halls.” Thror stated plainly. “Such treasures must be kept safe and Erebor is the safest place for them.”

Thranduil instantly straightened. “The wealth of Erebor only brings danger to your kingdom, as you are well aware. The gems are my family’s and their safety is entirely my choice.” His voice was even and direct. 

“You are emotional and irrational.” Thror replied, gesturing a hand to emphasize his point. “You will put such a cherished treasure at risk, so I, as your friend, will intervene. They shall stay here.” He ushered Farin to leave.

As the elven gems left the room, Frin saw Thranduil turn his head up slightly then stare straight at Thror. “You are the same as your kin, greedy, lusting only for treasure. Great treasure and wealth only bring destruction. There are creatures in this world that will come for Erebor and you will have no power to stop them.” Thranduil turned on his heel and left with his guard following closely behind. 

To his turn back, Thror laughed. “What can touch us here, in a mountain!?” He continued to laugh until Thranduil was gone. 

“Father,” Thrain leaned in towards the king. “They are elven gems, we have no need of them.”

“Enough,” Thror boomed. “That,” he gestured towards the Arkenstone. “That gives me the right to rule! You are my son but do not question me. I am the King!” He stood towering over Thrain, who cowered slightly. For a moment, the two dwarves stood there, one glaring at the other. Eventually, Thror turned away, exiting the hall without a word. 

After the King was gone, Frin heard a heavy exhale come from Thorin. 

“I feared this.” Thrain said sadly. 

“Can we mend the situation?” Thorin asked.

“Perhaps Farin can ease Thranduil’s anger.” 

“Even when that anger is justified?” Thorin questioned.

“What hope do we have? It is that or we lose an ally.” Thrain observed his son, then approached him. “We do what we must but your grandfather has made his decision, the gems will stay here. Our only hope is to convince Thranduil that this option is…” He tailed off.

“I don’t know what this is.” Thorin said, turning to leave. “It isn’t good.” He strode quickly out of the throne room, causing Frin to struggle to keep up. He led her back to his chambers.

As he entered, Frin moved to stand beside the door to wait for him to exit. “Frin, come.” He said sternly without looking. A little surprised, Frin obeyed. The heavy door closed behind her with a heavy thud from Thorin aggressively shoving it closed. 

Standing wide eyed, she glanced around the room. A lavish bed rose from the floor with pillars connecting it to the ceiling. A weapons rack sat in one corner and a desk in the other. Opposite the bed was a small fireplace which gave off a warming light. Three braisers lit the room. Two sat in the far corners, on either side of the bed, while the third, bigger than the other two stood in the centre of the room.

“I cannot sit here and do nothing!” Thorin roared.

Immediately taken back, Frin floundered unsure how to respond. She understood his desire to mend things with the elves but it seemed hopeless. 

“Not only do we have to worry about Thranduil but now I must be married!” He continued. “I don't even have a century. Why must I marry now!? Trust me, any dwarf-woman who would be a suitable match are all too…” He trailed off searching for the word

“Appropriate?” Frin offered.

“Yes!” His voice echoed off the stone walls. “I don’t need polite manners from my wife.” 

The word was painful for Frin, knowing she was never going to belong to it.

“I need someone strong, expressive. She must tell me the truth, no matter how it will anger me.” Thorin went on, not pausing for breath. “There is no such woman. So, why must I find one now? My father isn’t yet king and my grandfather has many years left. The line is secure.” He stopped falling into a stone chair, covered in fine furs by the fire. His head fell into his hands. 

Frin stood, stuck to the spot in front of the door. His words despite being honest, hurt her deeply, reminding her of the future she dreaded. Every part of her wanted to comfort him, form a plan but in the end it wasn’t her place. She simply warmed his bed and protected his life. Her eyes fell to the floor, waiting for his next word.

From the place where he sat, she heard movement. The sound of boots on stone drew closer. “You.” A hand came to rest on her cheek. “Why can’t it be you?” The question was only a whisper in her ear. “If you wanted it, I could make you a queen.” 

“No you couldn’t.” She breathed back. “Even if you wanted to.”

“You could be my queen.” His forehead pressed against hers. 

“Abdicate, then.” She muttered.

For a moment, her eyes searched his face, parting hoping he would give it all up but knowing he was too honorable to leave. “I cannot.” He let out a soft sign. “For now, tonight?”

“For now.”

His lips were on hers, soft almost a promise. Strong arms wrapped around her core, leading her to the bed. She didn’t remember removing her clothes but when his warm skin touched her she relaxed into him. The feeling of him surrounding her, inside of her, made her feel complete. He pushed her into her climax before following shortly behind. 

Underneath the soft fabric of a royal bed, Frin laid her head on his chest. She was acutely aware she was inside his chambers and guards had seen her enter. She was also confident they’d heard Thorin yelling. A part of her thought that perhaps they would believe he just yelled at her. The wiser part said otherwise.

“I have an idea.” Thorin stated.

“About?”

“Thranduil, we’ll get him his gems back.”

“You cannot be serious.” Frin sat up to face him concerned. “Thorin, that’s treason.”

“Not if I get permission.” He said with a smirk.

“So, you intend to change Thror’s mind?” She raised a cynical eyebrow.

“Not exactly.” The smile widened. “We will convince him to move them, put them in my charge. I will make him believe they’ll be stolen and I will keep them safe. What I won't tell him is that I will entrust them to Thranduil who cares for them and will surely keep them safe.”

“That is foolhardy.” Frin shook her head. “It won’t work and why do you keep saying ‘we?”’ 

“You’re going to help me.” Thorin lept from bed grabbing his clothes.

“I am not.” She saiding mimicking him and started putting on her armour. “You are protected from Thror’s wrath by blood. I am no one, half elven. If I am caught I will be executed, especially if he deems the elves an enemy.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Can you guarantee it?”

Thorin fell silent.

“I thought not.” Frin crossed her arms over her armour. “Just tell me what you need.” She was reluctant to help, worried for her own safety and that of her family, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. 

“I just need to speak with your father.” Thorin’s voice was reassuring.

“Is that it?” 

“And maybe help me steal the gems.” He shrugged. Frin looked at him wide eyed. “I’m joking...mostly.”

“I can speak to my father.” Frin signed, “but I need a letter from you arranging the meeting, He knows protocol and follows it strictly.”

Thorin nodded, moving towards the desk. Hastily, he wrote, then sealed the parchment. “Here take this.” He handed her the letter, which she tucked into her armour. “Take it home with you this evening. I’ll pay him a visit tomorrow. First, I need to see Balin about the fortification of Dale and the gate.”

Frin nodded, following him out into the corridor and towards the mountain’s entrance. When they passed by the royal guard, Frin refused to make eye contact but from the corner of her eye she could see some raised eyebrows. Internally, she cursed herself for staying in the chamber with him for so long. The whole mountain would be buzzing with rumors in a fortnight.

When they left the royal quarter and entered the main market of Erebor, Frin adjusted her position to be closer to Thorin. Although she didn’t suspect any danger, she knew the market would be the best place for an assaination attempt. It was midafternoon and the streets were full. With keen eyes, she was constantly scanning the crowd looking for anyone suspicious.

Eventually, with no incident they made it to the entrance and the barracks. Inside the room was empty, everyone still at their posts. Thorin led them towards the fighting pits where she’d first met Dwalin and Dova. Both, she realized she hadn’t seen in weeks. 

Inside the vast room was only one figure. Balin sat at the far end of the room at a desk, which Frin never noticed before, reading.

“Balin!” Thorin called as they approached. 

The older dwarf lifted his head with a smile. “Thorin, it’s good to see you lad.” He greeted him. “I’ve heard we need to strengthen the guard.”

“Where did the order come from?” Thorin demanded.

“Thror.” Balin pointed to a roll of parchment on his desk.

“Well,” Thorin continued. “Do it but also do we have anything to protect us from dragons?” 

Balin looked at him confused for a moment before collecting himself. “Dale has some windlances, four in total. Why?” 

“It has been pointed out that our collected wealth may make us desirable to some creatures.” Thorin moved around the desk and placed a hand on Balin’s shoulder. “Get more of them, for our walls. You have my authority to procure whatever you need. Keep it quiet.”

Balin nodded, then turned his attention to Frin, who stood off to the side of the two dwarves. “Lass!” He smiled broadly. “I heard about your new duties. You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Well,” Frin smiled back at him. “I believe the prince’s over dramatic retelling of the attack on the road did most of the work.” She nodded towards Thorin. 

“Either way, it is good to see you healed.”

“Frin.” Thorin’s voice was commanding, interpreting their conversation. “I will take my leave from you tonight. Please do as I ask.”

“Of course my Lord, shall I accompany you across the city?” She asked.

“No, I shall be safe enough among my own people.” Thorin bowed his head to both of them, then left quickly. Frin wasn’t sure why he left so quickly but it was getting late. 

“It left quite the scar.” Frin laughed turning back to her conversation with Balin.

“I bet it did.” He said as he came around the desk and patted her shoulder. “Come lets get a drink.”

Frin nodded and followed him. He led her to a small tarven. Inside, the room was half filled with members of the city guard, all enjoying some relaxation and merriment. Balin showed her to a small table in the corner of the room before leaving to grab them both drinks. Once he returned, he turned his kind, sympathetic smile towards her.

“So tell me, how are you?” The tone of his voice alluded to the seriousness of the question. It was clear he wasn’t looking for a simple answer but the truth.

Frin took a sip from her mug. The beer tickled the back of her throat on the way down. “Honestly,” she paused placing the drink on the table. “I do not know.”

Balin’s eyes searched her face, encouraging her to elaborate. 

“Before today, things were pleasant.” She said with a slight tilt of her head, not sure if the wording was correct. “Today, things changed. My time at this post is coming towards its end and I am unsure how I will survive it.” The carefully chosen words fell off her tongue with ease, yet she felt some sebeliance of guilt for deceiving Balin. 

“Ah,” Balin said, taking a drink. “I suppose the elves have something to do with it.”

“In part.”

“But,” he raised his eyebrows. “You’re speaking of Thorin.” Before Frin could respond, he continued. “I saw you together. He cares for you and you for him. When you were injured that was very clear. He was who you spoke of.” 

“Yes.” Frin said reluctantly. There was no point hiding it from him. She knew the knowledge was safe with Balin.

“I suspect Thorin is to marry.” Balin sighed. 

“Yes.” Frin gulped down more beer.

“And when he does?” 

“I’ll leave.” Frin felt the impending tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Where will you go?” The frown which had been growing on Balin’s face was ever present.

“No idea.” She shrugged. “The world is vast and I’ve only seen a part of it.”

“You could stay.”

“Balin, it would be too painful.” A tear trickled down her cheek as an image of Thorin with his future wife flashed into her mind.

“Lass,” he leaned forward. “Do you love him?”

A choked scoff erupted from her mouth as the tears fell. “Yes.”

He placed a hand on hers. “I do not want to see you go. Join us at the gate for a time, then make your decision. Don’t make a decision hastily.”

“I’ll think about it.” She replied after a moment, then swiftly finished her drink. Climbing to her feet, she wiped her face on her sleeve. “Thank you Balin but I must be going.”

“Anytime Lass.” His soft smile was as warm as ever but the concern lining it was evident.

With a small nod she turned and returned to the streets of the mountain city. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she began to walk home. Her pace was slower than normal. She wanted to give herself time to regain her composure before facing her family.

The letter from Thorin felt heavy in her pocket. She’d given her word to deliver it to her father but she wasn’t optimistic. Thror wouldn’t entrust the gems to Thorin, especially considering his sickness. Thranduil was too proud to put his trust in Thorin. Everything seemed utterly impossible. 

Sooner than she would have liked she stood in front of her family’s home, the doorway becoming her in. With a brief pause she straightened her shoulders and entered. Immediately, the scent of dinner filled her nose. When she turned the corner the dining table was already prepared. Lamb and potatoes sat in the centre surrounded by fresh vegetables, the first produce of the season. 

Behind her she heard the familiar footsteps of her parents approach. Without looking, Frin sat in her usual place and waited for her father and mother to do the same. A few moments later with full plates, the family began to speak to one another.

“Frin, I am glad you’re joining us.” Her father offered a soft smile.

“I’m sorry.” She replied. “I realized I was neglecting you both and I’ll try better to be home in the future.” It was true. She regretted neglecting her family in favor of Thorin. “Mother, how was your day?” She asked, hoping to bring on an easy conversation. 

“Quiet,” her soft smile spread warmth over her elven face. “The sickness which plagued us all winter seems to have passed.”

“That’s good.” Frin beamed. “And you father?” As the words left her mouth, she realized she was well aware of her father’s day. 

He sat for a while contemplatively staring at his food. “It was exhausting.” He let out a heavy sigh.

“My dear you can speak freely with us.” Her mother leaned over and caressed her husband's hand.

“Nothing I say leaves this room.” He said sternly. Both women nodded. “The King, against my advice, taunted Thranduil with his ancestral gems.”

“Why?” Her mother was shocked.

“I do not know.” He gripped her hand.

“And Thranduil?” She inquired.

“He reacted predictably.” Frin answered.

“Yes, we may have just lost a valuable ally.” He bowed his head.

There was a moment of silence before her mother spoke, voice full of worry and fear. “Then what becomes of us.” She glanced towards Frin.

“I don’t know my dear.” He squeezed his wife’s hand. “If you wish to leave here I will come with you.”

“It may not come to that.” Frin interrupted, pulling Thorin’s letter from her pocket. “Prince Thorin has a request for you.” She passed the parchment across the table to her father. 

He gave her a quizzical look while breaking the seal on the parchmen. A quiet moment passed as he read the letter, then folded it and placed it inside his jacket. “The Prince will be seeing us tomorrow.” He stated. “Perhaps he will offer a solution.”


End file.
